Hogwarts: The Musical
by TheRadMonkey
Summary: Eighth year for Harry Potter was supposed to be normal. And it is...except for the fact that the students are bursting into song at random moments. HP/DM RW/HG NL/BZ
1. Got Your Money

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: So this is a parody/humor/romance fic (because they only let you put down two). Pairings are Draco/Harry, Blaise/Neville, Ron/Hermione, and maybe some more later on if you're nice.

Song: Got Your Money (as 'rapped' by Say Anything, original song by Dirty Ol' Bastard)

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><p>Chapter 01 - Got Your Money<p>

Harry Potter was quite excited to go back for his last year at Hogwarts. In fact, since finding out that he would have a last year at Hogwarts, it was all he could think about. Gone was the Voldemort in his head, gone were the strange and horrifying dreams, gone was Ginny, who'd told him that she'd gotten her feelings for him confused and really only thought of him as a brother.

Yes, this year was going to be the best yet. For once Harry didn't have to worry about meeting his untimely death. No, this year was going to be focused on nothing but his friends and classes. Because with Voldemort gone, what could possibly go wrong?

Harry had spent the summer going between the Burrow, Grimmauld Place, and Hogwarts - where he'd volunteered to help clean up. The morning of September 1st, he finished packing up his trunk, flooed Ron to remind him that Harry would be meeting them at the station, and went about eating the breakfast that Kreacher had so thoughtfully put out for him.

He waited until twenty minutes before eleven o'clock, tugged his trunk outside, and apparated to the train station.

Everything was going wonderful so far, and Harry couldn't see how anyone could deflate his incredible mood. Nothing could possibly go wrong when he was about to spend the next few hours with his friends before seeing Hogwarts completely refurbished and beautiful. Nothing could-

What was _he_ doing there?

Harry had made it through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and the first person he saw was the last person he'd ever wanted to see.

Draco Malfoy. Standing with his mother and looking quite uncomfortable as people openly glared at him. Harry knew somewhere deep, deep down that he shouldn't be upset that Malfoy was there. After all, Harry was probably the biggest reason Malfoy wasn't in prison. And yet...as soon as he saw that annoying scowl on Malfoy's face, or that annoying glint in Malfoy's hair, or those annoyingly pretty grey eyes, he just wanted to go over there and hex the shit out of him.

But of course, Harry being Harry, he didn't do that at all. Instead, he pursed his lips tightly (in an expression disapproving enough to give his Aunt Petunia a run for her money) and walked the other way, towards the complete opposite side of the train.

Harry's expression hadn't changed five minutes later when he was seated alone in a compartment, waiting for Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to get there.

Really, how dare Malfoy show up! Sure, he'd practically saved Harry's life, but Harry had saved his life too, so they were even. And if it hadn't been for Malfoy, Dumbledore wouldn't have died like he did. And if it weren't for Malfoy, Harry's morning wouldn't have been ruined. And if it weren't for _Malfoy_... Harry would probably be dead.

Thinking this, Harry gave an annoyed grunt and glared out of the window, because he didn't have anything else to glare at.

Fine. Alright. So maybe Malfoy wasn't_ that _bad. Sure he was a git. And a coward. And a self-centered, egotistic, evil, slimy little _ferret-ass punk_, but he wasn't_ that_ bad.

And, Harry amended grudgingly, he wasn't _evil_. However he was everything else, there was no denying.

Harry was cut off from his angry thoughts by an excited squeal and a bone crushing hug. "Oh, Harry!" Hermione (or at least he was pretty sure it was Hermione, it was hard to see through the hair) exclaimed, squeezing him much too tightly. She'd obviously been getting hug-lessons from Mrs. Weasley.

Knowing his air supply was quickly fading, Harry managed to choke out one word. "Breathe!"

It was a good thing Hermione was the brightest witch of her age, otherwise she might not've understood the implications. Instead of suffocating her best friend, however, she quickly jumped off of him, looking apologetic.

"Sorry, Harry." She patted him on the back as the boy-in-question coughed and weezed.

"Jeez, Hermione," Ron spoke up from where he was leaning on the compartment door (looking cool as usual), "he's survived eighteen years with a mad-man after him and you almost kill him in minutes without even trying."

"Voldemort should be ashamed of himself," Ginny agreed as she entered the compartment and sat down opposite Harry. "Are you alright?" She added, looking at her ex-boyfriend a little worriedly. Harry nodded, his face still red and his breathing still harsh.

Hermione checked her watch, looking quite abashed. "We should be leaving in a few minutes," she said, glancing around at all of them before glancing out of the window. "So we should...probably..." she trailed off with a horrified expression taking over her features.

"Hermione?" Ron asked worriedly, walking over to her and looking out of the window as well. His expression turned to an almost identical mask of horror.

"What are you all looking at?" Harry asked, his voice still scratchy. He peered over there shoulders, Ginny doing the same thing, and realized quite quickly what it was that was so awful.

Blaise Zambini was standing outside of the compartment window looking expectantly at Daphne Greengrass, who was avoiding his eyes spectacularly. That wasn't what was so horrifying of course. What was horrifying was that Zambini had managed to pulled his trousers down low enough to show off his boxers, and had stuck a baseball cap sideways on his head. Then, to make matters worse, he spoke.

"Parkinson," he snapped, and Pansy Parkinson stepped forward, staring at him with wide eyes. "Drop a beat."

To everyone's immense surprise (and by this time everyone was, in fact, staring at them) Pansy immediately began trying to beat box.

"Ohh, baby," Blaise began, waggling his eyebrows to Pansy and smirking.

"I dedicate this all the pretty girls - all the pretty girls

It's on

All the pretty girls, in the world

And the ugly girls too

Cause to me your pretty anyways baby."

Blaise nodded his head flirtaciously to Millicent Bulstrode before continuing to obviously harrass Daphne.

"You give me your number, I call you up"

Daphne opened her mouth, about to say something, but Blaise continued to do something that sounded suspiciously like a rap.

"You act like your pussy don't interrupt

I don't have no problem with you fucking me

But I have a little problem with you not fucking me"

Several people in the train station gasped.

"Baby you know I'll take care of you

Cause you say you got my baby, and I know it ain't true"

"Is that a good thing?" Daphne asked, her eyes widening in shock and her hands clapping over her mouth as soon as the words popped out.

"No it's bad bitch," Blaise answered, beginning to walk around her predetor-like.

"For good or worse, makes you switch.

So I walk on over with my crystal,

Bitches-"

"Nword!" Draco Malfoy suddenly appeared, spouting out the word and looking slightly confused.

"-put away your pistols

Zambini won't be having it in this house

Cause bitch, I'll cripple your style."

Now that you've heard my calm voice

You couldn't get another-"

"Nword!" Malfoy piped up again.

"Hoochie won't get moist

If you wanna look good, and not be bummy, girl you better give me that money."

And then the most horrifying thing yet. Gregory Goyle and Theodore Nott both rolled onto the picture, dancing in what everyone figured was supposed to be a sexy way as they sang in falsetto voices.

"Hey, dirty, baby I got your money,

don't you worry, I said hey,

Baby I got your money.

Hey, dirty, baby I got your money,

Don't you worry, I said hey,

baby I got your money!"

"Yo," Blaise continued, nodding in time with the beat.

"So I glanced at the girls, girls glanced at me,

I whispered in their ear 'you wanna be with me'

You wanna look pretty though, in my video

Ol' Zambini on the hat and I'll let you all know."

Blaise did a strange little swivel dance step that seemed a little Michael Jackson-ish.

"Just dance if your caught up in the holy ghost of France,

If you stop I'll put the killer ants in your pants."

He gave a butt wiggle.

"I'm the B-A-Z as you can see,

FBI don't you be watchin' me

I don't want no problems 'cause I put you down

In the ground where you can not be found

I'm just Zamb - dog tryin' to make some money

So give me my streaks, and give me my honey

Radio plays this all day, every day

Regonize I'm a fool if you love me!"

Blaise spasmed slightly and his voice cracked.

"None of you-"

Spasm.

"Better look at me funny-"

Spasm.

"You know my name now GIVE ME MY MONEY!"

He shouted the last part at Daphne, his fists raised in the universal sign for 'damn you alls to hell!' while Goyle and Nott began singing in the falsetto voice again.

"Hey, dirty, baby I got your money

don't you worry, I said hey,

Baby I got your money."

While they sang terribly off-key, Blaise was urging them on with loud exclamations of 'sing it! sing it girls!' and Draco crossed his arms, glared at Daphne, and said "Yo, if Zambini wants his money, just give him his money."

Blaise tried to give Goyle and Nott a run for their money, singing 'That's how I like it girl' until his voice cracked and he let it go with an 'aw fuck'.

"Sexy, sexy, sexy."

To everyone's horror, Draco joined in to Goyle and Nott's side dance and half-whispered, half-sung the decelerations.

"Sexy, sexy, sexy."

They repeated it much more than necessary until Blaise began his barely-passable rap once more.

"Yo, Yo-"

"Nword!" Draco popped back up at Blaise's side.

"Playin' at the club like this all night,

Bitches put your ass up let me hold it tight!

You lookin' at my wrist sayin'-"

"It's so nice!" Daphne and Millicent exclaimed as Blaise held out his bare wrist for them to admire.

"The price, bitch, is diamonds shining disco light!

You better help me solve my PROBLEM!

'For I get this money and ROB THEM!

Lucky dog when I won the lotto

Ran up on my car for carrying...'rayllos'?"

There was momentary confusion in all of the Slytherin's eyes as Blaise said 'rayllos', as though none of them were sure what that meant. Pansy even stopped her "beatboxing", until Blaise waved his hand for her to continue.

"You can call me Zambini, and then lift up your shirt

And if you want this Zambini - GOD MADE ZAMB AND ZAMB'LL BUST YOUR ASS!

Stop annoying me, yeah, I play my music loud

It takes the bastard old Zambini to move the crowd

They say he had his BALLS IN HIS MOUTH!"

Blaise had started screaming obscenely again.

"Cisco Adler taught me that back in the house...

BUT GIVE ME MONEY!"

This seemed to queue the back-up singers, because once again Goyle and Nott began to sing what appeared to be the chorus.

"Hey, dirty, baby I got your money

Don't you worry, I said hey!

Baby I got your money."

"Give me my money," Blaise half-sang in a too-deep voice.

"Hey, dirty, baby I got your money

Don't you worry, I said hey!  
>Baby I got your money."<p>

"Why can't you give me the money"

"Hey, dirty, baby I got your money

Don't you worry, I said hey!"

Baby I got your money."

"I want my money."

"Hey, dirty, baby I got your money

Don't you worry, I said hey!"

Baby I got your money."

"Give me my mother fucking money bitch!"

"Hey, dirty, baby I got your money

Don't you worry, I said hey!"

Baby I got your money."

"I need money. I would like to recieve money from you."

"Hey, dirty, baby I got your money

Don't you worry, I said hey!"

Baby I got your money."

"PLEASE!"

"Hey, dirty, baby I got your money

Don't you worry, I said hey!"

Baby I got your money."

"Give me my money my money my money give it!"

"Hey, dirty, baby I got your money

Don't you worry, I said hey!"

Baby I got your money."

"I think you understand what I want at this point in the song. Just the money. Give it to me."

And as soon as it had began it was over, leaving everyone in a shocked silence that lasted until the train whistle blew.

As if shaking themselves out of a trance, the Slytherin Eighth Years shook their heads slightly, gave each other nervous looks, and walked in separate directions. Goyle, Harry noted, didn't even walk towards the train, but instead to the barrier from Platform Nine And Three-Quarters.

"What the bloody hell was that!" Ginny hissed, and Harry found himself wrenched out of the trance as well. He shakily shrugged and sat back down, going over the scene again and again.

If he never saw or heard Goyle dance or sing again, he would die a happy man.

"What's a...Rodeo?" Ron asked, looking more confused then the rest of them combined.

"Radio," Hermione corrected immediately, if a little faintly. "It's a muggle device that plays music. Like that thing your mum listens to Celestia Warbeck on."

"Oh," Ron nodded in understanding. "Right."

"You don't...think that's going to happen again, do you?" Hermione continued, wincing slightly. Harry knew why. He wanted to wince too, just remembering the monstrosity that had gone on a few minutes prior.

No one answered for a few minutes, and then Harry heaved a sigh. "It's Hogwarts, so yes, Hermione, it'll probably happen again."

Suddenly the compartment door slammed open and there stood a wild-eyed, heaving Neville. "Did you guys _see_ that!"

So much for nothing going wrong...

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><p>AN: I think the Say Anything cover is better than the original, but that's just me. If you guys haven't heard the song, you should check it out. After reviewing, of course ;)


	2. No Hablo Ingles

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: Happy birthday to me...happy birthday to me =) This chapter is dedicated to LIGHTNSHADOWS and everyone who read chapter 01 =D

Song: No Hablo Ingles - Bowling For Soup - Album: Sorry For Partyin'

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 02 - No Hablo Ingles<span>**

It was obvious that by the time they'd gotten off the train to the school, sat down, watched the ceremony, and listened to the newly appointed Headmistress' welcome speech that none of the Hogwarts staff had heard about the fiasco at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Which meant, Hermione pointed out quickly as the students began pouring out of the great hall, that it could've been the Slytherin's idea of a practical joke, and therefore probably wouldn't happen again.

Harry didn't tell her this, but he was fairly sure that the Slytherin's found what had happened about as amusing as they would if they found themselves marrying muggles. In other words: not at all.

"Eighth Years, if you could stay for a moment, please," Headmistress Minerva McGonagall's strict voice rang out over the sounds of hundreds of voices talking all at once. Harry obediently stopped in his tracks along with Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Parvati. They let the other's pass by them, Ginny giving him an affectionate pat on the arm as she went with the crowd, until there were only a handful of students left in the Great hall, and McGonagall. Even the professors had disappeared.

If McGonagall wanted to talk to them about earlier, then that meant it hadn't all been some strange hallucination that could be forgotten with a good nights rest.

From the sideways glance he stole at the remaining Slytherins, they were thinking the same thing. Malfoy looked like he was about to faint, Pansy was blushing profusely along with Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode while Theodore Nott looked ready to vomit. Ironically (at least to Harry) Blaise seemed to be the only one to be unperturbed by the whole situation.

Harry couldn't help but wonder how he did it.

"All of you gather around," McGonagall waved her hand impatiently, and Harry and his friends went to stand between the remaining Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. They certainly didn't look happy either. The Headmistress took a moment to look at all of them, one by one, before she spoke again. "Follow me," she ordered, and swept past the lot of them, enforcing them to obediently follow her.

"Please don't let it be real, please don't let it be real, please don't let it be real," Neville whispered fiercely beside Harry as McGonagall led them through the corridors. He finally stopped his mantra when McGonagall stopped in front of a portrait that showed a bearded man and a small dog playing what looked like a game of chess. She nodded towards the two in the painting (who seemed content to ignore her presence) before turning around to face the students.

"This is where you shall stay for your last year at Hogwarts."

If anything could've been worse than Harry had imagined on the walk up there, he didn't know it. "What?" He asked in horror, and he wasn't the only one. In seconds everyone was speaking up, their eyes wide with protest and more than a few paranoid glances were given to the small number of Slytherins.

"Quiet," McGonagall snapped, giving them all a reproachful look. "The school governers and I quite agree that this is the best solution. We've never had Eighth Year students before, and seeing as normally you would've all graduated by now..." a distant look came to her eyes and she trailed off for a moment before seeming to come back to herself. "You are no longer students of Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff. You are now in a house all your own, and I expect you all to act like you would if you were in your separate houses."

Harry didn't have to look around to know that he wasn't the only one staring at the Headmistress in shocked horror. Did she honestly expect them to all get along now that the war was over? Was he supposed to suddenly become best friends with Draco Malfoy, all because McGonagall and the Governers thought they should?

Had she gone _mad_?

"This year," McGonagall continued on briskly as if she didn't notice the looks she was recieving, "you will no longer be able to win or lose house points, nor will you be able to be on a Quidditch team if you were last year."

That was just icing on the bloody cake.

"You can't be serious, Professor," Harry said before he could stop himself, and was rewarded with a glare from his former favorite teacher.

"I am quite serious, Mr. Potter," she replied, her voice taking on a warning tone. "You are all adults now, and I expect you to act like adults. If I hear about any fighting-" she gave Harry and Malfoy a suspicious glance, "or if any of you shirk your responsibilites, you will be expelled immediately. Now," she turned back to the portrait, "Come along, all of you. _Sanguinem_ _Sanguin_."

There was momentary confusion, until the painted dog nodded his head to them wisely and the portrait swung open.

The common room was larger than Gryffindors, Harry noticed idly as he hurried in with the course, while the Gryffindor colors were red and gold, this room seemed to have the colors of all four houses put into it in the form of furniture, tapestries, and even the multi-colored fire. There was a moment when his eyes squinted from the onslaught of color, and he felt Hermione cringe beside him.

"Welcome to your new home, all of you," McGonagall spread a rare smile across the room. "You rooming arrangements are on the notice board, and I expect none of you to complain. If you need to, however, I'm sure Ms. Granger and Mr. Corner will be more than happy to listen."

Harry chanced a glance at a horrified Hermione and confused Michael Corner from Ravenclaw.

"Have a pleasant evening and sleep well." Without a backward glance, McGonagall was gone, leaving the Eighth Years to their own disturbed devices.

There was a moment where everyone stood silent and still, not daring to look at each other, and then suddenly they were running to the notice board to see their new dorm mates. Harry was jostled a few times in his own effort to see, though there was sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that said he already knew what was coming.

Hermione let out a loud gasp, and Harry knew he was right. There, a moment later, he saw his name, and the sinking feeling became more pronounced.

~ Eighth Year Boys Dormitory (1)

-Longbottom, Neville

-Malfoy, Draco

-Nott, Theodore

-Potter, Harry

-Weasley, Ronald

-Zambini, Blaise

And on a sheet of parchment next to it:

~ Eighth Year Boys Dormitory (2)

-Boot, Terry

-Corner, Michael

-Finch-Fletchley, Justin

-Goldstein, Anthony

-Macmillan, Ernest

Gryffindors with Slytherins, and Ravenclaws with Hufflepuffs. All of the hope that Harry had managed to have for his Eighth year vanished abruptly. There was absolutely no way they could all get along with each other when they were stuck in the same dormitory. None at all.

"Could be worse," Ron spoke up next to him, his voice weak with defeat. "At least we're not with the Hufflepuffs. Could you imagine?"

Harry could imagine. He imagined it would probably be quieter if they were roomed with the Hufflepuffs.

"Oh, this is awful," Hermione moaned quietly on his other side. "Only me and Parvati against all of those Slytherin girls! There won't be a moment of peace!"

"It'll be fine," Harry couldn't help but say in an attempt at optimism. "McGonagall's right, everything will be fine if we just let go of our old prejudices. Everything's fine." Was it just him or was he saying 'fine' two too many times?

"Right," Ron agreed brightly, and Harry didn't have to look at him to know the tone was fake. "Of course. Well, night Hermione, I'm off to bed." And in front of everyone, Ron leaned over and gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek before waving jauntily at her and heading up the boys staircase.

Hermione's face was flushed and her eyes were wide, making Harry grin for the first time in what felt like years. "Yeah, night, 'Mione."

"Good night," he heard Hermione say faintly as he patted her on the back and followed Ron.

By the time Harry made it up to the dormitory he was sharing with the other Gryffindors and -Ech- Slytherins, Ron had already picked his bed and was in the middle of changing into his pajama's, and Neville (who he hadn't even noticed leave the common room) was laying in his bed and staring hard at the top of his bunk. The Slytherin's were no where in sight.

"What're we going to do?" Ron asked Harry grimly, the optimistic facade fading from both of their faces upon seeing each other.

Harry slowly moved towards his trunk at the other end of the room in silence. He had not a clue what they were going to do about the situation McGonagall had put them in. His best hope was that both houses could ignore each other in half-arsed peace.

"I don't know about you two," Neville spoke up quietly, "but as soon as they get in here I'm going to tell them that I'll do my best to be civil, and ask that they do the same."

There was no quiver in Neville's voice, no nervousness like there would've been in Sixth Year, the last time they'd all shared a room, only a grim acceptance. Harry was surprised, though he knew that logically he shouldn't have been. Neville had changed a lot since the war started. They'd all changed. Maybe by some stroke of luck the Slytherin's had changed too.

"And if they aren't civil?" Harry found himself asking the boy on the bed as he began changing as well.

Neville shrugged. "Then we'll just have to deal with it, won't we. I don't know about you two, but I didn't learn anything last year, and I need to pass my N.E.W.T.'s. Can't pass if we're expelled, can we."

Harry and Ron both nodded in agreement. Hermione could only do so much for them, after all.

In what felt like no time at all there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and all three of their new Slytherin roommates appeared at the door.

The six boys stared at each other for a moment, Harry, Ron, and Neville all gauging they're calm expressions silently.

Finally, someone spoke.

"We'll leave you lot alone if you leave us alone," Blaise Zambini said, crossing his arms as if daring them to object.

Apparently, Harry thought, the Gryffindor's weren't been the only ones worried about the future.

"Right," Ron agreed, and Harry and Neville both nodded in acceptance. Nott glanced at Harry as he took the bed across from his, but Draco didn't seem to see him at all. Internally, Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

This was going to be hell.

* * *

><p>The lights were off and the boys were in their individual beds when Neville broke the tense peace that had been surrounding them. "Er...Zambini?"<p>

There was no question of whether or not Zambini was awake because they hadn't been laying down long enough for sleep to catch them. Harry's hand immediately went to his wand, which he'd tucked underneath his pillow. Just in case.

"Longbottom?" Zambini drawled out from behind his curtains.

From the silence that rang out in the room, Harry assumed Neville was hesitating. Which meant that what he was asking wasn't a good thing. Which meant it was about -

"About this morning," Neville muttered so low that Harry could barely hear him.

"Fuck off, Longbottom," Nott snapped, and Harry couldn't help but grin. He _would_ be upset by the subject.

"I don't know what happened, and I don't want to talk about it," Zambini said flatly.

"Right...er, sorry," Neville mumbled, and Harry could practically hear his sigh of discontent.

"It's fine."

And from Zambini's tone, that was the end of that.

* * *

><p>"Today we'll be going over what you learned in Sixth Year," Professor Flitwick told the class in his squeaky voice. The Eighth Years had been paired up with the Seventh Years for classes, which meant that the normally half-occupied classroom was currently filled to the brim with students.<p>

This was Harry's second class of the day, and while Potions had been more full with N.E.W.T students than it had been two years before, the crowd had been nothing compared to Charms.

"Who can remember what the spell 'Avis' does? What about you, Mr. Longbottom?" Professor Flitwick looked at Neville, as did the rest of the class.

First Neville's cheeks went pink, and then he began worrying his lip while Hermione's hand shot predictably in the air. He glanced at her before returning his eyes to Professor Flitwick. "No hablo Ingles," He mumbled so quietly that Harry, who was sitting next to him, barely heard the words.

"I'm sorry?" Professor Flitwick tried leaning across his desk and sounding as confused as Harry felt.

Neville's expression suddenly went blank, stayed that way for a millisecond, and then a wide grin was spreading across his cheeks. Harry could see it coming before it happened, and made an attempt to grab Neville and hold him down, only to fail spectacularly as Neville instead dodged Harry's hands and leapt onto their desk.

"Oh shit," he heard Ron swear softly from behind them, and could only nod in agreement as yelled out 'Uno, dos, tres, quatro!' from above them.

"_My teacher asked me where my homework was _

_ And that's when I told her_-"

"No hablo Ingles!" Harry resisted the urge to clap his hands over his mouth in horror as the words escaped his lips. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how one looked at it) he wasn't the only one to shout it.

And then, all of the sudden, Harry felt like joining in the song completely. He felt like getting on top of the desk with Neville. He almost felt like dancing.

So he did.

"_Policeman caught me doing 90_

_ And that's when he pulled me over_!"

"No hablo Ingles!"

A few more people joined in, and Harry didn't have to look around to know that they were all standing on top of their desks too. Neville seemed to be having the time of his life.

"_A hippy with a tambourine _

_ Asking me if I could spare a dollar_!"

"No hablo Ingles!"

"_Some douchebag at the club tries to pick a fight_

_ And grabs my collar_!"

"No hablo Ingles!"

"ONE!" Harry shouted with the rest of them.

"_When I'm not feeling it_!"

"TWO!"

"_When someone's full of shit_!"

"THREE!"

"_When I get cut off at the bar_

_ To make a getaway_

_ It's all you gotta say_-"

"QUATRO! CINCO! SEIS!

_No hablo Ingles_!"

"What are you all doing!" Professor Flitwick squeaked, his arms waving in the air and his eyes wide with surprise. None of them even noticed.

"_No hablo Ingles_!"

"Get down from there right now!" Professor Flitwick squealed to no avail.

"_No hablo Ingles_!"

With another squeak, Professor Flitwick toppled from the stack of books and under his desk.

"_No hablo Ingles!_"

None of the students noticed when he ran from the room, though Harry was vaguely aware of the fact that he'd been saying something.

"_My nephew asked me if I'd take him _

_ To the Jonas Brothers Movie_!"

Neville began to sing again.

"No hablo Ingles!"

"_Walking my dog I see as sign that says_

_ To please pick up the doodie_!"

"No hablo Ingles!"

"_My mom gets mad because I never call my dad_

_ On his birthday_!"

"No hablo Ingles!"

"_A guy walks up and says_

_ 'Donde esta casel de pepe_'!"

"He no hablo Ingles!"

"ONE!" Harry's arms, along with half of the others, raised his arms and waved them around.

"_So many different uses_!"

"TWO!" Harry's arms stayed by his side while the other half of the room raised they're arms.

"_You don't need no excuses_!"

"THREE!" Arms back up.

"_It's as easy as the third grade_

_ The perfect getaway_

_ It's all you've gotta say_!"

"QUATRO! CINCO! SEIS!

_No hablo Ingles_!"

Harry became vaguely aware of Headmistress McGonagall grabbing him by the shirt collar and trying to pull him down.

"_No hablo Ingles_

HEY! HEY! HEY!"

He was also vaguely aware of her failing in her current endeavors.

"_No hablo Ingles_"

"Stop it this instant! All of you!"

"_No hablo Ingles_

HEY! HEY! HEY!"

"_Did you brush your teeth_?" Neville asked only to be answered with "No hablo Ingles!" from the rest of the room.

"_Where'd you leave your pants_?"

"No hablo Ingles!"

"_Did you feed the fish_?"

"No hablo Ingles!"

"_Do you like my band_-"

Neville raised his hands warningly to keep them from answering.

"No, wait, don't answer that."

Harry shrugged to himself.

"_No hablo Ingles!_

_ No hablo Ingles_!"

And so it continued on while Neville asked more questions that could be answered with a simple 'no hablo ingles'.

"_Do you wanna buy some girlscout cookies_?"

"_Did one of you guys pee in the pool_?"

"_How 'bout we all get together and go to the ballet_?"

And just as soon as it had began, it stopped.

Harry realized in growing horror that he had just been on top of a desk in the middle of Charms class singing as song that he'd never even heard before. And from the shocked gasps that could be heard throughout the room, he wasn't the only one coming to that conclusion.

It had been just like Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

"What..." McGonagall began to growl, "was _that_?" Harry could've sworn he'd seen smoke billowing out of her nose like an angry dragon.

"Um, well, you see Professor..."

* * *

><p>AN: And once again, if you've never heard this song you should totally look it up, 'cause it's awesome. Please review, because it's my 21st birthday, and if I'm drunk enough when I read them, I will cry like a little baby =D


	3. Bottoms Up

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and read. Hope you enjoy this chapter, even though it's not quite like the other two.

Songs: My Dick - Mickey Avalon

Get Free - The Vines

I Just Had Sex - The Lonely Island

You Charmed The Heart Right Out Of Me - Celestina Warbeck

Bottoms Up - Trey Songz

* * *

><p><strong>C<strong>**hapter ****03: Bottoms up**

"Let me see if I understand this correctly," McGonagall began calmly, though she was still tight-lipped and her nostrils were still flairing slightly, "none of you just sang and danced of your own free will?"

"Not quite, professor," Hermione spoke up, though she'd been the one to do most of the explaining.

Neville had spent the last twenty minutes feeling as though he were about to cry. This was all his fault, after all, and he'd just made a idiot out of himself in front of the seventh and eighth year Gryffindor's and Ravenclaw's. Never mind that they'd all been involved as well.

He still couldn't quite believe it had happened. One moment he'd been trying to remember the answer to Professor Flitwicks question - What the spell '_Avis_' did - whilst feeling like an idiot for making Flitwick wait...and the next he was singing.

_Singing_!

Neville wondered briefly if Blaise had felt like that yesterday. There was, after all, no doubt in anyones mind that they'd just experienced the same thing the Eighth Year Slytherin's had experienced.

"Headmistress!" Hermione was cut off mid-sentance when the doors to the Charms classroom burst open and Professor Sprout hurried in huffing, her face flushed and sweaty. "Headmistress," she panted, "there's something wrong with the students!"

"What is it, Pomona?" McGonagall asked immediately, though Neville could tell that she already knew. They all already knew.

"Students..." Professor Sprout took a big gulp of air, "singing about...their genitals...it's horrid!"

"Really?" Luna asked from across the room, looking more interested than Neville could ever be.

McGonagall quickly got to her feet and began leading Professor Sprout and out of the classroom. "Longbottom!" She snapped before getting to the door, and Neville sprang to attention, "You and Mr. Zambini are to come to my office as soon as your last classes, understood?"  
>"Yes, Professor," Neville responded immediately even as his heart sank.<p>

She was going to expel him. He'd known a second chance was too good to be true, and now he'd never pass his N.E.W.T.s.

In a moment she was gone, and Neville slumped in his seat.

"Er...class dismissed," Professor Flitwick spoke up after a moment of worried silence.

Seeing as none of them had unpacked their belongings to begin with, it was everyone rushing to grab their bags and hurrying out of the room.

"D'you think they're still going at in Herbology?" Ron asked from behind Neville.

"Probably," Harry answered, sounding happier than Neville expected. _He_ certainly wasn't happy. He was embarrassed, and horrified, and about to be expelled.

"We're not going to go watch, Ronald," Hermione snapped, making Harry snicker.

How could they pretend as if nothing had just happened? Weren't they bothered at all?

Neville sighed to himself before hurrying to his next class and leaving the trio behind. Some things just weren't fair.

* * *

><p>Harry and the others had to endure two more songs before lunch, and another one after. Luckily he hadn't participated in any of them, though Hermione singing what sounded like a punk rock song and was probably named 'get free' since she yelled it so many times was quite hilarious. As was walking by the Transfiguration classroom and listening to a Fourth Year boy singing about just having sex.<p>

And despite the slight hilarity of the situation, none of them could help but worry about the outcome. What if they'd all been cursed? What if the castle had been rebuilt improperly and this was the result? What if it got worse?

"Should write a letter to George," Ron mentioned as they made their way back to the common room before dinner. "Tell him I've got an idea for a new WWW product...piece of candy that makes you sing when you stupid songs when you eat it. It would sell out in no time."

"I thought him and..." Harry cleared his throat awkwardly as Ron stiffened from beside him. "I thought there already was one of those?" He finished lamely, wincing slightly.

Ron nodded tightly. "Yeah, the Celestina Suckers, but when you suck on them you only sing Celestina Warbeck songs."

"Remember when your dad tried one, Ron," Hermione said brightly, trying to salvage the situation like the wonderful woman she was.

It seemed to work, because a second later Ron was grinning widely. "Oh my poor heart, where has it gone!" Ron imitated his father's off-key voice perfectly. "It's left me for a spell!"

"You're killing my ears!" Hermione moaned, jokingly covering her ears and humming loudly.

"And now you've torn it quite apaaaart!" Harry joined in, laughing when Hermione let out a drawn out 'noooooo'.

Ron swung an arm around Harry's shoulders and bellowed: "I'll thank you to give me back my heaaaart!"

"STUPIFY!" Someone shouted, and suddenly Ron was sprawled on the floor. Without thinking, Harry pulled out his wand and spun to face their attacker. He lowered his wand when he realized he was being attacked by a miniature third year.

"What was that all about?" Harry snapped to the third year as Hermione cast a quick '_Rennervate_' on Ron.

"Headmistress McGonagall told us to stun anyone who starts singing," the boy explained quickly, looking upset. "Because it's supposed to make them stop, I was just..."

"We were only messing around," Ron glowered, picking himself up off the ground with some help from his girlfriend. "No need to curse a bloke in the back, mate."

"Sorry," the boy squeaked before running back without another terrified glance.

"I could sue," Ron mumbled, now looking to be in a bit of a bad mood. "Damn kids," he added for good measure.

Harry snorted.

"You got brought down by a thirteen-year-old, Ron," he pointed out, unable to stop another giggle from escaping.

Ron cracked a reluctant smile. "Shut up, Harry," He muttered half-heartedly.

"I'm sure McGonagall will have something to say to all of us at dinner," Hermione began as they started walking once more. "Now that she and the professors know."

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That's just as well. I think I'm going to skip dinner anyways. You'll tell me what she says, yeah?"

"Why are you skipping dinner?" Hermione asked immediately, just as he knew she would. She was always so worried about him.

"Headache," Harry admitted. "All that singing, you know? It's driving me mad."

Ron nodded sympathetically as they finally came to the portrait of the chess-playing man and dog. "Don't move your rook there!" Ron suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the portrait. "It'll get taken and leave you open for him to take your king!"

"Stop helping him cheat," the dog snapped, turning briefly to glare at Ron. "Who do you think you are?"

Before Ron could start arguing, Harry sighed again, smiling slightly in amusement, before speaking the password.

"Whatever," the dog replied crossly before the portrait swung open to let them pass.

As if on cue, Neville and Blaise Zambini climbed out of the hole. "Where are you off to, Neville?" Ron asked curiously, looking between the two.

"McGonagall wanted to talk with us," Neville explained glumly, passing by them.

"Because someone could keep there mouths shut," Zambini added, giving the four of them a glare.

Harry shrugged innocently. "It's not our fault you can't rap."

Zambini scoffed haughtily. "Like you could have done any better, Potter."

"Let's hope we never find out," Hermione spoke up before Harry could reply. "Let's go, you two, we have homework."

Ron groaned, and Harry resisted the urge to groan as well. Homework.

The common room was already packed with people, some getting ready for dinner, some lounging about on the chairs, and some people working with books and parchment in front of them. Harry's eyes flickered around at all of the faces, a reflex, before frowning slightly. "I wonder where Malfoy is."

Ron and Hermione, who had began talking in harsh whispers, both when silent at his observation. "What do you mean?" Hermione asked suspiciously, and Harry shrugged uncomfortably.

"Well I've just realized...I haven't seen Malfoy all day. Not even in class. And we had Potions this morning, which I'm pretty sure he should've been in, and..." Harry paused when he caught the expressions on his friends faces. "What?"

"Harry," Hermione began soothingly while Ron lead him to an empty chair, "this isn't Sixth Year. Malfoy's probably not doing anything suspicious, and you probably don't need to stalk him."

"I didn't stalk him!" Harry exclaimed loudly. "I just...I..._observed_ him, to make sure he didn't hurt someone!"

"You stalked him, mate," Ron said flatly, "there's no use in dancing around it. You practically glued yourself to him."

"I did not!" Harry objected, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. "There was no stalking! And even if I _had_ been, he was being suspicious!"

Hermione sighed and patted him comfortingly on the arm. "You've always been so blind, Harry. Poor thing."

"You can't blame him, 'Mione," Ron told him girlfriend, "he had a sheltered childhood. He doesn't know better."

"Stop ganging up on me!" Harry snapped, crossing his arms in a decidedly childish manner.

"You know they didn't even speak to each other last night," Ron continued as if Harry hadn't spoken.

"Maybe they're growing up," Hermione said, smiling.

"Took them long enough," Ron agreed.

Harry thought that was pretty rich, coming from Ron.

"I'll just leave you two to your bloody teasing," Harry grumbled, standing up and glowering down at them. "You're so mean."

"We'll bring you up some food," Hermione replied, smiling sunnily at him.

"Yeah, you should take a nap or something," Ron agreed amicably, "get rid of that headache."

"If you guys wanted some alone time, you could've just asked," Harry told them unhappily before he spun around and began the trek to the boys dormitories. "Honestly."

Swinging the door open, Harry stomped slightly to his bed and sat down with a pout and a glare a the wall. It wasn't as if he minded that his two best friends were in a relationship and wanted to do relationship things, but they could've at least been nicer about it. Instead of telling Harry he'd stalked Malfoy. Which wasn't true at all.

"There's a Pouting Potter! Someone call the press!"

Speak of the devil.

Harry spun his head to stare at Malfoy in surprise. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against his bed, with a bottle of what looked like firewhiskey in his lap. As soon as Harry made eye contact, Malfoy grinned. Not smirked. Grinned.

"What's got _your_ knickers in a twist, Potter?" Malfoy slurred, swaying slightly.

"Are you..." Harry couldn't help but be shocked, "are you _drunk_?"

"Malfoy's do not get drunk, Potter!" Malfoy exclaimed much more loudly than necessary. "However," He conceded after a moment, "seeing as I'm no longer a Malfoy...yes, I may be slightly tipsy." He took a swig out of the bottle and grinned again. "It's a perk."

"Maybe you should...er...sleep it off, or something?" Harry tried, unsure of what he should be doing in that precise situation. How did you tell your rival of eight years to sober up? Was there a certain code of conduct that he was supposed to follow, or did he just wing it? And what did he mean he was no longer a Malfoy? Surely he hadn't changed his name?

"No," Malfoy replied resolutely, raising the bottle high above his head. "I refuse to stop drinking until this bottle is gone. Only then shall I concede to sleep it off."

Harry didn't know what exactly to say to that, so he didn't say anything at all. Just stared. He wanted to commit this to memory: Malfoy, the most aloof person in the world, was sitting on the floor getting drunk. The world was obviously ending. And he hadn't smirked or sneered once since Harry had arrived. A miracle all it itself.

"D'you want some?" Malfoy suddenly asked, his face bright and hopeful. "Father always told me sharing was for the less fortunate, but since he's not my father anymore, I can share now!" Before Harry could decline and question, Malfoy started crawling over to him on his hands and knees. The firewhiskey was slopping onto the carpet, but Harry sure as hell wasn't going to point it out.

"How long, exactly, have you been up here, Malfoy?" Harry asked lightly when Malfoy stopped in front of him and dropped his forehead on Harry's knee.

"S'morning," Malfoy mumbled, the bottle missing Harry's crotch by inches as he swung it up to take a another drink. "Bad owl post. Couldn't concentrate on anything so I just thought I'd nip up here for a bit. Not like I didn't expect it, really, it was the only logical choice. Can't blame him for not wanting me anymore, but he could've waited a few more days..." Harry got the impression that Malfoy was no longer talking to him. "After all I'd done for him he couldn't even..." Malfoy looked up at Harry suddenly. "You are so lucky you don't have parents, Potter. They can't disappoint you if they're dead."

Logically, Harry knew he shouldn't be angry about that remark. If Malfoy had been sober, that would of been one thing, but he was drunk and by the open expression on his normally closed face he wasn't trying to tease him. Still, a bubble of anger rose up. Harry quickly squashed it back down and before he could think better of it he was grabbing the bottle out of Malfoy's hand and taking a drink of it. The firewhiskey burned on it's way down his throat, and his face went red in the effort not to cough, but it was better than fighting with an inebriated blonde.

Malfoy grinned up at him. "See? S'not so bad, right?"

"It's vile," Harry replied when he was able to speak again, grimacing at the taste. "I can't believe you've managed to drink half the bottle!"

"Bottle and a half," Malfoy corrected him joyously. "I think. Maybe two, I've lost count to be honest."

"So you're trying to get alcohol poisoning, then?" Harry asked skeptically, resisting the urge to take another swig of the awful drink. It would've been easier if he hadn't been holding it. "Suicide's not the answer, you know."

"Suicide," Malfoy scoffed. "Never. That would be much to easy. I just want to forget."

"And how exactly is that working out for you?" Harry asked, carefully moving Malfoy's face from his knee.

"Not so well," Malfoy admitted, pouting slightly. "S'pose I'm not drunk enough yet."

"Or," Harry began firmly, "you simply need to sleep. Get up, before I'm forced to take you to Madam Pomfrey."

"Hero complex," Malfoy mumbled disgustedly, even as he allowed himself to be half-dragged back to his bed. "And I can't sleep yet, the bottle's not empty. I made a promise, Potter, and I fully intend to stick to it."

"Of course you do," Harry sighed to himself, setting the firewhiskey bottle down long enough to push Malfoy into his own bed.

"Give it," Malfoy ordered, his words unintelligible and his outstretched arm easy enough to read.

Harry sighed again. Two bottles of alcohol was too much for Hagrid, let alone Malfoy. Which meant there was really only one thing to do. Grabbing the firewhiskey bottle, he ignored Malfoy's hand and began drinking. It didn't stop burning, and he really needed to breathe, but Harry didn't stop until the last dredges of alcohol hit his tongue.

"There," Harry said, dropping the bottle and shaking his head to clear it of the sudden fuzziness. "'S empty. Happy now?"

Malfoy responded with a giggle. "You're such a lightweight! Ohh, wait until I tell everyone!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Lay down, would you? The bottle is empty, you can go to sleep now." Malfoy nodded in assent and obedientantly laid out on his bed. "Not on your back, you twat, on your side."

"Wha's the difference?" Malfoy mumbled, even as he turned his body to face Harry.

"If your on you're back and you start puking in your sleep your choke on it and die. If you're on your side you won't," Harry explained, leaning against the bedpost and closing his eyes to keep the room from spinning awkwardly. He had to regain his surrounding and get off Malfoy's bed. No excuses.

Taking a deep breath, Harry moved to stand up. He stopped when he felt fingers wrap around his wrist. "Don't leave me," Malfoy whined, tugging on Harry's arm. "I'm tired of being alone now. You have to stay."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. He would've pried Malfoy's fingers off of him if he'd thought it would do any good. "Malfoy, do you know what you'll do if you wake up sober with me in your bed?"  
>"Shove you off?" Malfoy tried, smiling hopefully up at him. "Please, Potter, please!"<p>

Harry wasn't sure what was worse...Malfoy begging him to go to bed with him or Harry actually considering it.

"You can't make sure I don't choke on my own vomit from you bed, Potter."

Damn, he was right.

Harry sighed and grudgingly lay down beside Malfoy, keeping as much distance from the blonde as the bed would allow him.

"You should sleep on your side, too," Malfoy told him. "Unless you don't mind choking on your own vomit."

"If I do, will you stop talking?" Harry asked, turning his head to glare at him. Malfoy nodded, smiling innocently. Now the question was which side was better to lay on. He didn't want to face Malfoy, nor did he want to turn his back to him. After a moment of debating, Harry reluctantly turned away from Malfoy. After all, he was drunk. What was the worst he could do to the formidable Boy-Who-Conquered?

"_Bottoms up, bottoms up,_

_ Ay what's in your cup_

_ Got a couple bottle's _

_ But a couple ain't enough_..."

Malfoy began singing softly, sounding victorious. Harry sighed.

"_Bottoms up, bottoms up,_

_ Throw ya hand's up_

_ Tell security we bout to tear this club up_."

"Malfoy-" Harry began, only to be cut off.

"_Bottoms up, bottoms up,_

_ Pocket full of green,_

_ Girl you know I love the way you shake it in them jeans_-"

"I thought you said you didn't break your promises," Harry managed to get in, effectively stopping Malfoy's song. "You said you'd stop talking."  
>"I'm not talking I'm singing," Malfoy told him in a sing-song voice. "So haaaa!"<p>

"Idiot," Harry mumbled, rolling his eyes before he closed them.

Malfoy giggled. "Close the curtains, it's too bright."

* * *

><p>"Potter," a voice hissed in his ear while something shook him in a decidedly uncomfortable manner.<p>

"What do you want, Hermione?" Harry mumbled, burying his face in the pillow. Of course, to anyone else it would've sounded like: 'wadduwanerminny?'

"Potter, why the hell are you in my bed!"

Harry's eyes shot open, and the first thing he saw was silver orbs inches away from him. "Malfoy?"

* * *

><p>AN: Tell me what you think. And, as always, if you want to request a song, I will do my best to put it in here.


	4. Teenagers

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: Finally getting around to replying to reviews...

**bluedragonstorm **- BFS is pretty fantastic, your request has been accepted (except for BOTDF because I don't know how I could possibly integrate one of their songs into the story), and who doesn't love Barney =).

**ZADRvampy **- The slapping shall commence soon enough (think Kung Pow).

**blackheartedbirthday** - Thank you =), and I'll see what I can do.

**amateurwrit** - it is Zabini, but i've spent years putting the 'm' in there to annoy the hell out of my sister. I don't even think about it any more.

Song: Teenagers - My Chemical Romance - Album: Welcome To The Black Parade

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 04 - Teenagers<strong>

Draco Malfoy woke up swallowing the urge to vomit. One moment he'd been fast asleep, and the next his head pounded, his body hurt, and his stomach was rolling around painfully in his throat.

He swallowed hard, ignoring how dry his mouth felt, and let out a deep breath through his nose. There was only one good thing about the entire experience: he was warm. And, despite what was most definitely a hangover, he felt almost kind of...nice. Comforted. Safe. Warm...

Draco's eyes popped open in shock as reality hit him. There was someone in his bed. Someone that he was most definitely spooning, and - after Draco felt around a bit - was most definitely a man.

"What the hell did I do last night?" Draco hissed to himself as he carefully retracted his arm from the sleeping individual practically on top of him and propped himself up on one shoulder to get a good look at the assailant.

Messy black hair, long dark eyelashes, barely-parted pink lips, round glasses, and, the most incriminating evidence yet, a lightening bolt shaped scar.

The dark room began to spin wildly around Draco had he had to swallow back the vomit again. "Potter!" Oh Salazar Slytherin's left nut, there was a bloody Potter in his bed! He'd been spooning a bloody Potter! A fully clothed, fully passed out bloody Potter!

The Gryffindors were going to kill him. All of them would get together and kill him, then take turns defiling his dead body. Because he'd slept with Harry Potter. Maybe. Possibly. There was a chance.

Draco grabbed Potter by the shoulder and began shaking him awake before he could back out. "Potter," He hissed, hoping that no one else would here him. "Potter!" He said again when the Golden Boy didn't stir. He wasn't dead, right? Because that wouldn't look good for Draco, not at all.

"Wadduwanerminny..." Potter mumbled, which was a good indication that he was not, in fact, dead. Thank fucking Merlin.

"Potter, why the hell are you in my bed?" Draco asked, continuing to shake him until Potter's eyes popped open. Wow, they were really green. And really close.

"Malfoy?"

No...it was finally all too much. Potter's voice was all innocent and curious and Draco was already confused enough. He turned quickly, pushed back the curtains surrounding his bed, and began to vomit on the floor.

He was vaguely aware of a muffled curse and the bed shifting as he emptied his stomach's contents on the floor, but didn't particularly realize much of anything until he was done and a glass of water was thrust into his line of vision.

"Drink it," Potter told him. "It'll make you feel better."  
>"Don't want to," Draco replied, whimpering slightly. With the curtains open he could see sunlight, and it was making his head pound ferociously. "And stop yelling."<p>

"Just drink the damn water, Malfoy, while you still have the choice."

"Ohh, that sounded really threatening, Harry, good job." Was that Weasley? Goodness, had Weasley just witnessed Draco vomit?

"No," Draco mumbled resolutely, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and resting his forehead on the bed. "I don't want to."  
>"Do it."<p>

"No."

"Do it now, Malfoy."

"Stop yelling!"

"Malfoy-"

"I don't _want_ to!"

"You're dehydrated, Malfoy, you _need _to."

"But-"

"Or do you want to feel like shit all day?"

Damn, Potter was right.

"Fine," Draco moaned, pushing himself up with his arms and wobbling slightly in the process. "Give me the damn water."

Potter was grinning smugly when he handed over the glass, and Draco grimaced before taking a gulp. "Tastes like vomit," He mumbled, holding the offending item away from him.

"Water is tasteless, Malfoy. That's you."

"Bugger off," Draco replied, though he obediently took another drink

"Hurry up would you, you don't need to be late for breakfast."

"I'm not eating breakfast," Draco told him stubbornly. "And stop mothering me. I'm an adult, and can take care of myself."

"Drinking a bottle and a half of over-priced firewhiskey is not a good way to prove that, just for future reference," Potter said lightly, refilling Draco's glass as soon as Draco emptied it.

Loathe as he was to admit it, Draco had to concede (albeit silently) that the water was making him feel a bit better. His new and improved - though awfully masculine - mother watched on with crossed arms as he drank the second glass of water, taking it away as soon as he was done.

"Now for the love of Merlin, take a shower. You smell like stale alcohol and vomit," Harry told him seriously, going so far as to push him off the bed.

"Amen!" Theo yelled in agreement, making Draco cover his ears and whimper.

"And don't forget to brush your teeth," Potter added, ignoring Theo and giving Draco another little push. Draco glowered, but found himself walking towards the bathroom anyways.

"You know mate," he heard Weasley begin quietly, "you're saving-people-thing is going a bit too far when you're helping a drunk Malfoy."

"What can I say, Ron?" He could practically hear Potter's ridiculous grin. "I'm a humanitarian."

* * *

><p>"Longbottom, wait up!"<p>

Neville grudgingly - _obediently_ - stopped walking, barely waiting until Zabini had caught up to him before resuming his trek down to Herbology. "I didn't realize you were taking Herbology, Zabini," he said quietly, not quite meeting the dark-skinned boy's eyes.

After last night, well...certain precautions had to be made. Slytherin's were not to be trusted, no matter what the circumstance.

"I'm not," Zabini replied without missing a beat. "However we have things to discuss, and you've been ignoring me since yesterday evening."

Had Neville been that obvious? Oh well.

When Neville didn't say anything, Zabini continued. "I just want you to know that what happened -"

"You don't have to explain yourself, Zabini, it's perfectly understandable," Neville told him stiffly, though he couldn't honestly say he believed it.

"Will you -" Zabini groaned and grabbed Neville by the shoulder, effectively stopping him and spinning him around so that Neville was facing Zabini properly. "Just stop, a moment, and listen..._please_." He grimaced as the word left his mouth.

"You're a Slytherin, I'm a Gryffindor, you were right it wouldn't work out," Neville shrugged easily, ignoring the hand still placed on his shoulder. "Perfectly understandable."

"That's not what I was going to say," Zabini said, pursing his lips slightly. Neville only raised his eyebrows, waiting. "I want you to know that it's not whether or not I want to...with you..." Zabini's cheeks went pink, "it's simply that I can't put myself in that position."

"No one was forcing you, you know," Neville told him. "It was simply an idea. That you shot it down so vehemently makes me think that it actually has everything to do with me. And I'm okay with that. You're not exactly my favorite person in the world, either, Zabini."

"Don't be ridiculous," Zabini snapped crossly, "I'm everyone's favorite person."

Neville - deciding it wasn't worth the argument - just rolled his eyes. "It's fine, Zabini. It's not like you hurt my feelings." That was a bit of a lie. It was one thing to assume that someone didn't like you. It was a whole other thing to know it for a fact.

"You're not listening," Zabini told him after Neville had tried to head off again, and had again been turned around to face the Slytherin.

"You're going to make me late for class," Neville pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. "You may not care about my attendance, but I most certainly do."

"Well the conversation would already be over if you would stop arguing," Zabini grumbled, looking mutinous. In return, Neville stared expectantly at him. Seeming to take this as his cue, Zabini tried again. "I knew when we got assigned to the same room that we'd all have to be...cordial...to each other. I just...I didn't...expect to want to become..." Zabini hesitated for what felt like the millionth time, lessening Neville's already waning patience. "...More."

"I'm confused," Neville said flatly, "are you trying to apologize or are you taking initiative and agreeing?" Thank Merlin for spending so much time for Hermione. It really did wonders to one's vocabulary.

Zabini bit his lip in an unexpectedly (and slightly disconcerting) human gesture. "I don't know," he finally admitted, sounding quite upset about it. "You've gone and confused me."

'_Yes_,' Neville thought dryly, '_there seems to be a lot of that going about lately_.' Instead of pointing that out, he went in a completely different direction. "How about you think about it, and when your highness comes to a decision you can come find me, eh?"

Neville made his escape before Zabini could get over his shock.

* * *

><p>"So," Ron began casually as Harry slid into the seat beside him, "how did last night go?" Harry had been expecting the question since he'd been so rudely woken up that morning. However he hadn't expected it from Ron.<p>

"What do you mean?" Harry asked - a bit too innocently; even he knew it - as he studiously watched Professor Graves at the front of the class. Professor Graves was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and it was better to try and study him now rather than during class where he might be distracted. Or at least that's what he told himself when he didn't meet Ron's eyes.

Seeming to notice this, Ron scoffed. "Don't be thick, Harry. You woke up in a bloke's bed - in Malfoy's bed - and you don't expect anyone to question it?"

When had Ron become so bloody observant? Not that there was anything for him to observe, of course. They'd only talked.

"You mean after eight years you still don't know me well enough to just figure it out?" Harry asked, taking up a defensive posture before he could stop himself.

"It's because I know you so well that I can't figure it out," Ron told him sagely, and Harry actually turned to stare at him bemusedly.

"What?" Harry asked, honestly, truly confused as to how that was supposed to make any sense at all.

Ron just rolled his eyes. "Did you shag him or not, mate?"

The flat tone and pure conviction of Ron's question made Harry's jaw drop in astonishment. "Are you _mad_?" He hissed after a moment of un-concealed shock, "of course not!" Ron shrugged unconcernedly.

"Wake up hungover in a bloke's bed...seems like the obvious question, doesn't it?"

"_No_!" Harry would never admit to the squeal that escaped his lips. "Never! It's _Malfoy_!"

Ron shrugged again. "Well you didn't seem to mind getting all close and personal when the two of you were sleeping. I swear, I look in to see if he's killed you, and there you are, practically wrapped around the ponce. It's enough to make anyone wonder." Harry let out another undignified squeal. "Stop squeaking mate, you sound like a ferret." Ron smirked at his own joke. Harry fought the urge to scream.

"Hermione's been rubbing off on you," Harry snapped, turning back in his chair and glaring intensely at the new professor. "She's making you deluded."

Ron was grinning lewdly. "You're right, Harry. She has been rubbing off on me."

Harry let his forehead fall onto the desk with a dull thud. "Please start the bloody class already," he whispered, bringing his head up a few inches before letting gravity pull it back down. "Please." _Thunk_. "Please." _Thunk_. "Plea-"

"Alright you lot," The professor began, unaware that the boy-who-conquered was suddenly and silently thanking him with every fiber of his being. "Let's get this over with, shall we."

And so began one of the most boring classes in the history of Hogwarts. Professor Graves reminded Harry of Professor Binns, except Graves was - perhaps unfortunately - alive. Halfway through the longest three hours of Harry's life, half the students were passed out and the other half were staring into space with dazed expressions. Harry's head hadn't left the desk, and he was just beginning to doze off when -

"_They're gonna clean up your looks_

_ With all the lies in the books_

_ To make a citizen out of you_,"

Harry, along with the rest of the class, perked up at Ginny's angry voice.

"_Because they sleep with a gun_

_ And keep an eye on you, son_

_ So they can watch all the things you do_."

Ginny rose to her feet, glaring at Professor Graves. Before he could stop himself, Harry was too. He barely even noticed the other students rising simultaneously.

"What are you-?"

"_Because the drugs never work_

_ They're gonna give you a smirk_

_ 'Cause they got methods of keeping you clean_,"

It wasn't Ginny who sang it. It wasn't any of them. It sounded like Justin Finch-Fletchley, coming from the corridors

Without a word, the Seventh and Eight year Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students turned and began filing out of the room to join the hundreds of others who had began piling out of classrooms everywhere.

"_They're gonna rip up your heads,_

_ Your aspirations to shreds_

_ Another cog in the murder machine_."

Harry was angry. Angry at Ron for accusing him of something so obtuse, angry at Malfoy for acting so innocent and adorable the night before, and most of all angry at the Professors who seemed to be pretending as if nothing was wrong. As if none of them were suddenly bursting out into song. As if the war hadn't happened. As if everything was normal.

He ran - they all ran - towards the Great Hall as though something was rushing them forward, and the empty room filled with every attending Hogwarts Student as they piled in.

He got the sudden urge to destroy something.

"_They said all teenagers scare the living shit out of me_,"

Harry, along with his peers half sang, half yelled, their voices bouncing off the walls and ceiling until the entire castle seemed to shake.

"_They could care less as long as someone'll bleed_

_ So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose_

_ Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me_."

Harry could vaguely understand that the professors had all run after them, that Headmistress McGonagall herself was stunning students left and right, but he couldn't grasp the will to care. They could all go bugger themselves.

"_The boys and girls in the clique_

_ The awful names that they stick_

_ You're never gonna fit in much, kid_,"

It was Luna who began it this time, her usually dreamy voice now filled with disgust and frustration.

"_But if you're troubled and hurt_

_ What you got under your shirt_

_ We'll make them pay for the things that they did_!"

She screamed the last few words, bringing about more waves of anger as the chorus took over and the half-screams, half-yells broke out once more with feeling.

"_They said all teenagers scare the living shit out of me_

_ They could care less as long as someone'll bleed_

_ So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose_

_ Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me_!"

Harry picked up the nearest object - a plate from the Gryffindor house table - and lobbed it at Professor Vector, who was the closest professor to him. This motion was followed by hundreds, and suddenly the air was thick with plates, glasses, and silverware all being thrown at the attacking professors.

"Stop it!" McGonagall shrieked, though it was easily drown out by the sound of two electric guitars - which in Harry's current state made perfect sense - and Ginny's howl of '_ohh yeah_!'

Harry felt someone bump into him and without a second thought dropped the fork he'd been about to throw at Slughorn, spun the clumsy bastard (Ernie, he'd recognize later) over and threw a punch at him, ignoring the pain that shot from his knuckles all the way up his arm when he made contact. A similar pain met his jaw a moment later, and he raised his fist - not to hit Ernie again, but instead in the air as the urge to sing once again overtook him.

"_They said all teenagers scare the living shit out of me_

_ They could care less as long as someone'll bleed_

_ So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose_

_ Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me_!"

"_All together now_!" Theodore Nott exclaimed, bringing it on once again.

_ "Teenagers scare the living shit out of me_

_ They could care less as long as someone'll bleed_

_ So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose_

_ Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me_!"

And as soon as it had started, it was over. Harry lowered his hand to his side sheepishly as the realization that they'd all been throwing things at their professors and screaming obscenities during what was most likely the guitar solo came back to him.

The silence was broken by Luna, whose voice had gone dreamy once more. "What's a gun?"

Oops.

* * *

><p>I know, I know...so many things to comment on, no one to comment to ;). But never fear, there's a review button here! and, of course, requests are lovely.<p> 


	5. Wonderboy

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: Hope everyone likes the chapter =)

Song: Wonderboy - Tenacious D - Album: Tenacious D

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><p><strong>Chapter 05 - Wonderboy<strong>

Blaise Zabini had managed to have the most shocking day of his life. Which was saying something, because there'd been a lot of shocking things going on the past few years. It was more shocking than finding his dead step-father sitting at the dining room table when he was seven, more shocking than his mother marrying that German acrobat when he was twelve, more shocking than that time in fourth year when he'd woken up with a naked Hufflepuff boy in his bed.

Oh no. That was nothing compared to this day.

Because Neville Longbottom had been an asshole to him. Not only an asshole, but a snide, sarcastic, evil little shit. He'd managed to do all of things no one had managed before. Blaise had not only apologized to Longbottom (well, he hadn't _exactly_ apologized, but he would have if the little shit had stopped interrupting him), but he'd also said_ please_ (urgh), and been out-thought, and every other horrible thing his mother had turned him against.

Longbottom, pudgy little wimp extraordinaire, had out-Slytherin'd a Slytherin. He'd out-Slytherin'd a _Zabini_, which had never happened before in the history of the world.

A world that was obviously coming to an end.

And, to top it all off, after the strange afternoon of singing and dancing and throwing things at their professors, he'd actually _convinced_ Blaise. To do something that wasn't self-serving and completely against what his mother had beat into him.

Shocking day, indeed.

"Longbottom," He greeted stiffly as he came upon said pudgy little wimp extraordinaire with Hannah Abbot.

It was obvious that they'd been flirting before Blaise had so rudely interrupted. Not that he really cared much. It wasn't as though the Hufflepuff bird could hold someone like Longbottom's attention for long.

And to prove his point, Longbottom immediately turned away from Abbot to stare at him with thinly-veiled annoyance. Blaise fought the urge to smirk victoriously.

"What do you want, Zabini?" Longbottom snapped, glowering at him. Blaise actually did smirk at that.

"You told me to come find when I sorted myself out," he reminded the brunette lightly.

"That's not what I said," Longbottom told Blaise, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's pretty much you want you said," Blaise argued immediately, without even thinking about the childishness that he was bringing upon himself.

Longbottom just rolled his eyes. "Well if you've 'sorted yourself out'," he rolled his eyes again, "then tell me, highness, what exactly have you sorted?"

That 'highness' comment he kept making...what the hell did it even _mean_?

"I've sorted out that you should meet me in the library tomorrow after classes," Blaise told him, ignoring Longbottom's skeptic expression. "Preferably in the back. Don't want a bunch of idiots goggling at us, after all." Longbottom and Abbot continued to stare at him. Blaise sighed. "Don't tell me you've changed your mind _now_, Longbottom."

"I might've," Longbottom told him, though to Blaise's ears the words didn't sound too convincing.

He shot Longbottom his most brilliant smile. "Wonderful. See you tomorrow, Longbottom." And with that, he walked off, glad to finally be victorious once more.

* * *

><p>Harry sighed as soon as he caught sight of Malfoy, sitting in the same position he'd been in the night before, another bottle of firewhiskey in hand. "<em>Again<em>, Malfoy?" He asked exasperatedly, moving through the room to glare down at the blonde more effectively. "Didn't you learn _anything_ from this morning?"

Malfoy only stared at him, his eyes looking more haunted than they had before, his expression grim. After a moment of them silently staring at each other, Malfoy took a swig from the bottle before turning slightly and grasping what looked like the Daily Prophet from his bed.

"'S in the papers," Malfoy mumbled, tossing the newspaper at him and taking another long drink. "Can't believe they put it in the papers."

Harry read the headline on the front page four times before sighing in understanding.

_**Malfoy Senior And Wife Disown Only Son**_

_** By: Rita Skeeter**_

So that's what Malfoy had been ranting about before.

Harry sighed again and moved to sit beside the wasted Slytherin. He grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey, taking a long drink of his own and setting it carefully on the floor between them, before reading the article.

_ Yesterday morning, September the 2nd, Lucius Malfoy (42) and his wife Narcissa Malfoy (40), signed the papers to disown their only son. The reason for this is unknown, though Mrs. Malfoy was caught saying 'it's better for everyone involved'._

_ Draco Malfoy (18) was unavailable for comment, as he's now in his final year of Hogwarts, and under the protection of the newly appointed Hogwarts Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall._

_ 'It's none of your business so stay out of it' Headmistress Minerva McGonagall snapped at this hard-hitting reporter upon arrival. The headmistress then continued on to use some very coarse language that shan't be repeated for concern of young eyes._

_ Lucius Malfoy, a known Death Eater, was sentanced to seventy-five years in Azkaban for multiple uses of the Unforigable curses, and for housing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for three years._

_ His wife, Narcissa, and estranged son Draco, were both found innocent of all charges against them after Harry Potter (18) appeared at their court cases stating 'Draco and Narcissa Malfoy switched sides before the war was over. They shouldn't be persecuted for it'..._

_...See more page 37..._

Harry dropped the paper down beside him with a grimace. There was a reason he didn't read the 'Prophet' anymore. It didn't matter whether or not he had anything to do with the subject, they'd find a way to stick him into every article anyway.

Ridiculous.

"Is this why you missed classes again today?" Harry asked, turning to look at Malfoy only to be caught off guard by the way he was being stared at.

"Your jaw is bruised," Malfoy told him, as though he didn't already know.

Harry nodded slowly, trying to figure out what that had to do with anything. "Er, yeah, it is." Before Harry could move or comment, Malfoy had leaned forward and was touching Harry's new bruised jaw with unexpectedly soothing fingers.

"Who am I sending flowers to, then?" Malfoy asked, his voice soft and his face much too close for comfort.

Harry leaned back slightly while forcibly reminding himself that Malfoy was drunk and probably had no idea what he was doing. "Ernie Macmillon," he explained, scooting a few inches away. "Though you probably don't have to send him flowers. I'm sure a sincere 'thank you' will suffice."

"Thank you," Malfoy told him quickly, making Harry raise his eyebrows.

"I'm not Ernie, Malfoy, I'm Harry." The fact that Harry had to even say that out loud made him wonder how much the alcoholic blonde had had to drink.

"Yes," Malfoy waved him off and rolled his eyes as though Harry was the stupid one. "I'm aware, Potter. I've only just realized that I never thanked you properly. So, you know, thank you."

"For the Room of Requirement thing?" Harry asked, unsure. "I would've done that for anyone, Malfoy, you don't need to -"  
>"No," Malfoy interrupted, looking slightly frustrated. "Well, I mean yes, thanks for that, but I was talking about first year. Thank you."<p>

Even though it was seven years ago, Harry remembered his first year at Hogwarts fairly clearly, and yet he didn't remember doing anything nice for Malfoy. So what on Earth was the drunk idiot babbling about? Seeming to hear Harry's confused thoughts, Malfoy elaborated. "You never shook my hand. On the train, I mean. I gave you my hand and you never took it."

"Thats a strange thing to be grateful for, Malfoy," Harry pointed out bemusedly. Had Malfoy really expected anything different back then? Well, he had been a bit of an arrogant idiot. Hell, he was still probably a bit of an arrogant idiot.

"It's not!" Malfoy exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air and narrowly missing Harry's glasses in the process. "If you'd accepted my friendship, I'd probably be dead by now! We'd both probably be dead right now! Weasley and Granger, they...they were with you through everything. I couldn't have done that! I would've run off like a scared little coward and left you to the wolves! Or...Death Eaters...or...something...you know what I mean," Malfoy finished (a little lamely) throwing his hands up in the air again. "The point I'm trying to make, Potter, is that I'm extremely grateful that we were never friends."

Harry stared at him for more than minute before finally being able to answer. "I'm not sure how offended I'm supposed to be by that rant, to be honest," Harry admitted, blinking rapidly.

Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not sure either, but that's okay."

Harry nodded, grabbing the bottle of firewhiskey and taking a drink before he could think better of it. All of the sudden he felt the need to get very, very drunk. _Very_ drunk.

"I've got another bottle!" Malfoy exclaimed brightly after watching Harry's motions.

'_Again, with the sharing thing. He's so weird_,' Harry couldn't help but think as he continued to drink.

"How are you even getting so much of this shit, Malfoy?" Harry asked curiously as Malfoy began digging through his trunk, coming up seconds later with a second (or third, depending on how much he'd already had to drink) bottle of firewhiskey.

Malfoy shrugged as he opened the bottle with a dull 'pop' and took a swig. "What can I say? I know a guy."

Harry let out a snort of surprised amusement. Malfoy _knew a guy_. What the hell was that supposed to mean? The bottle he was holding was halfway to his lips before he let it drop back down to his lap. He stared between the two items hard for a minute before holding out the firewhiskey to Malfoy. "Trade me," he demanded, and Malfoy did without complaint.

* * *

><p>"Ron!" Harry roared in greeting as his best friend ever walked into the room. The red-head in question stared between Harry and Draco with a raised eyebrow. "Ron," Harry slurred quickly, getting dizzily to his feet and stumbling his way over his mate. "Ron, you've got to try this! It's wonderful, mate! 'S like Christmas in a bottle!" Harry showed Ron the mostly empty bottle of Firewhiskey with the air of a proud father before spinning hazily around to face two Draco's. "We can share with Ron, right, Draco?"<p>

It was only polite to ask, after all.

The Draco twins seemed to be too busy to answer, seeing as they were rolling on the floor and laughing like two cracked-up hyenas .

"You're sloshed, Harry," Ron chuckled, stepping around Harry easily and walking towards...well, wherever he was walking. "You both are."

"Sloshed," Draco imitated in a deep voice, sounding - to Harry - like James Earl Jones as Darth Vader. They both burst into manly giggles.

"Well," Ron began awkwardly, "Have fun then. I'll just..." he made to move towards the door but Harry latched onto his arm.

"Wait Won-Won!" He squealed (still in a manly way), "I've got great news!"

"Don't call me 'Won-Won'," Ron grumbled, attempting to pull himself out of Harry's grasp. "Ever."

Harry ignored him. "Draco's not a tool anymore! He's totally cool now! You should hang out with us."

"Pity the foo' that don't hang out with us," Draco added in the same deep voice, now doing a spot-on impression of Mr. T.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Right," he said flatly. "I'll take that into consideration. Don't forget to use protection, Harry, we can't have any little Harry-Malfoy babies running around Hogwarts."

"Did you just call me '_hairy_'?" Draco asked, sounding offended.

"Did you just call Draco '_baby_'?" Harry added, his head cocked to the side in innocent confusion.

Ron rolled his eyes again, pried Harry's fingers off of his arm, and escaped while he still had the chance.

Harry pouted after his best friend, feeling a bit put out. "So mean..." He whined, his lower lip jutting and his eyes filling with tears. "Won-Won doesn't like me anymore!" He wailed, dropping to his knees and beginning to cry pitifully.

"'S alright, Ha-Harry," Draco told him, crawling over to the crying boy and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "We don't need Won-Won."

"You're right!" Harry exclaimed loudly, perking up almost instantly. "You can be my new best friend, Draco!"

Draco grinned excitedly at the statement. "Really? I've never had friends before!"

"Everyone has _friends_, Draco," Harry reminded him, thinking it was quite obvious. "_Duh_," he added for effect.

Draco shook his head resolutely. "No, Harry, I've never had _friends_. I've had _minions_! It's a big desonance! No wait, that didn't come out right."

"'Difference'?" Harry tried helpfully, and Draco nodded vigorously.

"Right. That."

"Well I'll be your friend, Draco," Harry told him, turning to give the blonde a tight hug. "And everyone will be _so_ jealous!"

Draco gasped suddenly, his clouded silver eyes lighting up in excitement. "Harry! Harry, I just got the best idea to ever come about or..." He gave over to another moment of confusion. "Damn, I've gotten myself all mixed up."

"That's alright," Harry told him, clapping him on the back. "We all make mistakes."

"Right," Draco nodded. "Anyways, d'you wanna hear it? It's really awesome! And everyone will know we're best friends and see how happy we were like a big 'Ha Ha fuck you all'!"

Though Draco was talking much too fast for Harry to understand him, he nodded anyways. "Okay!"

Which was why they found themselves downstairs twenty minutes later, in full view of every student in their year.

"Ladies and Gentleman!" Harry began loudly, catching everyone's attention immediately. Terry Boot even stopped strumming on his guitar to look up at them.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, sounding surprised. "Are you drunk?"

"No," Harry exclaimed convincingly. "I'm not. Anyways..."

"Right," Draco agreed, taking the hint and taking a long drink of firewhiskey to wet his pallet. "Ready?" Harry nodded resolutely. "Right."

Draco cleared his throat, making Harry snigger. "Right. Okay."

"_High above the mucky-muck, castle made of clouds_,"

Draco began to sing, pointing to Harry with his bottle.

"Should we stop this?" Hermione asked Ron, not bothering to lower his voice. Ron shook his head, grinning.

"No. We should let them get this out of their systems," He told her, and after a moment Hermione shrugged and nodded in agreement. The universal sign for 'oh well'.

"_There sits Wonderboy, sitting oh so proudly._

_ Not much to say when you're high above the mucky-muck._

_ Yeah_,"

Draco winked exaggeratedly at Susan Bones. "_Yeah_."

"_Wonderboy_,"

Draco sang to Harry, his voice cracking from the sudden high pitch.

"_What is the secret of your power?_

_ Wonderboy, won't you take me far away from the mucky-muck man_?"

Harry opened his mouth to begin his own tangent.

"_Now it's time for me to tell you about Young Nastyman_,"

He told their audience, gesturing wildly to Draco, who was dancing on the spot.

"_Archrival and nemesis of Wonderboy, with powers comparable to Wonderboy._

_ What powers you ask? I dunno how 'bout the power of flight?_

_ That do anything for ya_?"

"_That's levitation, homes_," Draco told him, grinning so widely it looked like his face had split in two. Harry shrugged.

"_How 'bout the power to kill a yak from 200 yards away..._

_ WITH MIND BULLETS_!"

"_That's telekinesis, Harry." Draco said, stifling a giggle. "How 'bout the power...to move you_?"

"_History of Wonderboy and Young Nastyman,_

_ Riggah-goo-goo, riggah-goo-goo_."

Harry sang, doing a little wiggle.

"_A secret to be told, a gold chest to be bold,_

_ And blasting forth with three-part harmony, yeow_!"

"_Wonderboy_,"

Draco began again, swaying slightly.

"_What is the secret of your power?_

_ Wonderboy, won't you take me far away from the mucky-muck man_?"

Harry cleared his throat.

"_Well, Wonderboy and Young Nastyman joined forces;_

_ they formed a band the likes of which have never been seen,_

_ and they called themselves Tenacious D. That's right_,"

"_Me_!" Draco exlcaimed, "_And Harry_!"

"_That's me_," Harry told them happily.

"_We're now Tenacious D_!"

Draco squeaked the 'd' out, his eyes widening slightly at the force of the falsetto.

"_Come fly with me, fly_!"

Terry Boot obligingly began a acoustic guitar solo, which Harry and Draco imitated to the best of their abilites with no instruments before Draco began to sing again.

"_Wonderboy, what is the secret of your power?_

_ Wonderboy, won't you take me far away from the mucky-muck man,_

_ Oh_!"

"_Take my hand_!" Harry sang, holding out his hand, waiting for Draco to grasp it. Which, with a giggle, he did.

"_Young Nastyman, and we'll fly!_

_ Bring out your broadsword._

_ There's the hydra._

_ Slice his throat!_

_ And grab his scroat_."

"What's a 'scroat'?" They heard Hannah ask Susan curiously. Susan only shrugged.

"_You take the high road_,"

Draco told Harry, who smiled up at him.

"_I'll take the low._

_ There, the crevasse,_

_ Fill it with your mighty juice_!"

They sang the last word together, and as soon as it cut off they waved to the disturbed students and ran back upstairs before trouble could befall them.

"Did you see their faces?" Draco asked, howling in laughter. Harry quickly joined in, and before either of them knew it they were both laying haphazardly on Harry's bed, still laughing like school girls.

* * *

><p>AN: Alright, there you go. Please review, and if you have a musical suggestion, hit me up and I'll see what I can do. =) Thank you for your time, have a nice day.


	6. Sexy And I Know It

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: Just so everyone knows, By next chapter this story will be changed to 'mature', because apparently I can't keep it t-rated to save my fucking life.

Song: Sexy And I Know It - LMFAO - Album: Sorry For Party Rocking

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 06 - Sexy And I Know It<strong>

"Ugh...fucking...pain..." Harry let out a low whimper as he moved his hand from a warm body (Draco's, if the last few weeks were anything to go by), and placed it on his throbbing head. And not the one in his pants. Because he was fully clothed, thank Merlin.

"Stop moving," Draco mumbled sleepily, curling his body into Harry's. Harry resisted the urge to scoot away from him, knowing that as soon as Draco actually woke up he'd be getting as far away from Harry as possible.

"Stop shouting," He retorted instead, covering his eyes with the back of his hand. "And go away."

If Harry's head hadn't been pounding with a hangover, he might've wondered why it was that he woke up with Draco more mornings than he woke up alone. Or perhaps he would question how strange it was that he never had any nightmares when he was sleeping with the arrogant blonde. Or maybe, just maybe, he would wonder why, every time he walked up into their room and saw Draco getting piss drunk, he would drop whatever his plans had been and drink with him.

However, Harry's head _was_ pounding with a hangover, so he didn't question it. At least not right then.

There were a few more minutes of Harry moaning and whining and just generally feeling like shit before Draco's head popped off of Harry's chest and looked at him in horror.

"Dammit, Potter, not again," Draco groaned, rolling off of Harry and pouting at the ceiling. "Why do you insist on sleeping with me?"

Harry turned his body so that he could glare at Draco with more intensity. "You're in _my _bed,_ Malfoy,_ so I think the question is why do_ you_ keep sleeping with _me_?"

Draco harrumphed, making his pout more pronounced. "You know, this wouldn't happen if you weren't such an alcoholic, Potter," He snapped, sounding as hypocritical as humanly possible.

"Pot," Harry said flatly, pointed to Draco. "Kettle," he pointed to himself. "Black."

Draco looked at him, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Wouldn't it pot," he pointed to Harry. "Kettle," he pointed to himself. "Black?"

"Why would I be the pot, Malfoy?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness of the conversation. The things they talked about in bed.

"Because you're last name is '_Pot_ter'," Draco told him, emphasizing the first syllable of Harry's last name. "Obviously."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Harry exclaimed, feeling slightly frustrated. "That's not how the saying goes. _You're_ the pot, and you're calling_ me_ - the kettle - black. Even though your black as well. You _fucking_ moron."

Draco stared at him, blinking rapidly and looking terribly offended. "Is that some sort of _racial slur_?"

Harry raised his head - still pounding away merrily - and dropped it back down on the pillow with a dull thud. "Oh dear, sweet Merlin," He groaned, "please just kill me now. I didn't survive Voldemort -" Draco winced "- to have to endure such a _stupid_ conversation, and -"

"Stop talking to yourself," Draco snapped, "and don't say his bloody name."

"Voldemort," Harry replied immediately, just to be spiteful. Draco twitched. "Voldemort. Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort, Volde-"

"_Stop saying his name_," Draco hissed, twitching every time the name was uttered from Harry's lips. Harry might've stopped, except he was actually having quite a lot of fun.

"-"

"Dammit Potter, we're trying to sleep!" Nott yelled, effectively cutting off Harry's tirade. Harry snapped his mouth shut before sighing forlornly. And there went his morning entertainment.

There was a moment of complete silence. Oh fuck it. "Voldemort."

Malfoy twitched and glared daggers at him. Harry just smiled innocently.

"I'm gonna kill 'im," He heard Nott mumble viciously, met with a hearty 'hear, hear' from Zabini.

"Wonderful," Neville began, sounding half-asleep. "We can make a day of it."

"Hear, hear!" Zabini exclaimed again.

"Oh, what fun," Harry muttered sarcastically, finally sitting up. He glanced at Draco, who was staring up at him with a raised white-blonde eyebrow. "I'm...taking a shower," Harry told him before he could comprehend why he felt the need to explain his actions to Draco in the first place.

"Good," Draco nodded, "you smell awful."

Harry scoffed. "You don't exactly smell like a field of roses either, Malfoy."

"I thought roses grew in bushes," Ron interrupted from across the room, sounding confused, "or beds or whatever."

'_Great, we've gone and woken up Ron_.'

"They do, Weasley," Draco called back, giving Harry a disdainful glare. "Potter's an idiot though, so you can't expect him to know better."

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Field, bush, bed...either way, you smell like shit."

Draco smirked up at him. "Have a lot of experience smelling shit, do you, Potter?" Harry assumed it was a rhetorical question.

"You two bicker like an old married couple," Ron complained, his voice slightly muffled. "Just shag already so we can get on with our lives."

"Never expected Weasley to say that," Nott murmured, just barely loud enough to be heard. He sounded impressed.

Harry was pretty sure he was blushing madly, and a glance at Malfoy showed that he wasn't the only one.

"Hear, hear!" Zabini agreed cheerfully.

A few feet away, Neville snored loudly.

Ah, roommates.

* * *

><p>Hermione sighed as, once again, she was the last in line for a shower. Sometimes she wondered if Pansy and Daphne went out of their way to get the showers first. It wouldn't surprise her. And of course she was much too nice to push Parvati out of the way just to get a bit of hot water, something that Millicent didn't seem to agree with.<p>

So here she was, sitting on her bed with her towel draped over her shoulders and her hair piled high above her head. Waiting.

"Just wait, Granger, you'll get your chance," Pansy told her, a sneer marring her homely face. Hermione sneered back before she could think better of it, the expression fading almost immediately as another bored sigh escaped her lips.

Was it really too much to ask to _not_ be late for breakfast? Honestly, Hermione'd had less problems when Ron had been dating Lavender, and it had been like World War III in their dormitory for months.

And the worst part (or maybe the best part depending on her mood) was that Harry, Ron, and Neville were apparently having a blast with the Slytherins. If Ron and Neville's considerable debates were anything to go by, Harry and Malfoy were spending just about every night getting wasted and sleeping together, and if Harry, Ron, and Nott's betting pool was anything to go by, Neville and Blaise were screwing in the library every evening.

Which was a terrible use of Hermione's sanctuary. She kept meaning to speak to Neville about it, but she could never catch him alone.

The sweet, caring part of Hermione was glad that they were all getting along, even if their methods were a little strange and disturbing. However the selfish part of Hermione was jealous because the only roommate she got along with was Parvati, and that was only because they'd already spent six years in the same dormitory anyways.

It simply wasn't fair that those Slytherin girls were great ugly prats. Except for Daphne. She wasn't really ugly, and a prat was too strong of a word since she didn't really say or do much of anything. Much like Canada.

Though if Daphne was Canada, what country would her little sister be? Would she be The United States (based on the fact that they were on the same continent) or would she be, say, Switzerland (based on the fact that they were both neutral)? And if they the Greengrass sisters were both countries, would that mean that Hermione was a country as well? And if so -

"What on Earth is Millicent singing?" Pansy asked Daphne, effectively cutting of Hermione's train of thought. She listened closely and, sure enough, Millicent's bullfrog-like voice was singing something in the bathrooms, though it was impossible to make out through the closed door.

Daphne shrugged emphatically, causing Pansy to heave a sigh much like Hermione had been doing only minutes before.

Personally, Hermione had the sinking feeling that they were going to find out the answer very, very soon. And, as usual, she wasn't wrong. In what seemed like no time at all, Millicent and Parvati had swung open the bathroom doors and were standing there in only towels.

"_When I walk on by, girls be looking like damn she fly_,"

Parvati began, rapping only slightly better than Blaise.

"_I pimp to the beat, walking on the street in my new lafreak, yeah_

_ This is how I roll, animal print, pants outta control,_

_ It's Redfoo with the big afro_

_ And like Bruce Lee yeah I got the glow_"

"_Girl look at that body_,"

Millicent said, gesturing wildly to Parvati, who had started to dance in a most provocative way.

"_Girl look at that body,_

_ Girl look at that body_-"

"_I work out_!"

Parvati said, managing to get a shrug into the scarlet woman dancing.

"_Girl look at that body,"_

_ Girl look at that body,_

_ Girl look at that body_,"

"_I work out_!"

Hermione sighed in defeat, knowing it was coming and at the same time knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"_When I walk in the spot_

_ This is what I see_,"

Hermione stood up and strode between Millicent and Parvati. From the corner of her eye she could see Pansy doing the same.

"_Evr'body stops and they starin' at me,_

_ I got passion in my pants and I ain't afraid to show it, show it, show it_-"

"_I'm sexy and I know it_," Millicent croaked, the two half-naked girls ripping off their towels.

"_I'm sexy and I know it_," Pansy repeated as she and Hermione ripped off their pants.

"_Yeah_," Parvati began again, as the other three began to get crunk around her.

"_When I'm at the mall, security just can't fight them off_

_ And when I'm at the beach, I'm in a Speedo trying to tan my cheeks_,"

Parvati slapped both hands on her bum before sticking it out for the rest to admire.

"_This is how I roll, come on ladies it's time to go_

_ We headed to the bar, baby don't be nervous_

_No shoes, no shirt, and I still get serviced_,"

Parvati winked at Daphne - the only one uneffected - as Millecent started to croak again.

"_Girl look at that body_,"

The four of them struck a pose.

"_Girl look at that body,_

_ Girl look at that body_-"

"_I work out_!"

"_Girl look at that body,_

_ Girl look at that body,_

_ Girl look at that body_-"

"_I work out_!"

"_When I walk in the spot_,"

Hermione started again, crunking it up hardcore against the her bedpost.

"_This is what I see:_

_ Evr'body stops and they starin' at me_

_ I got passion in my pants and I ain't afraid to show it, show it, show it_-"

"_I'm sexy and I know it_," Millicent said as they all began spinning their towels around their heads like impromptu lasso's.

"_I'm sexy and I know it._"

"_I'm sexy and I know it_..."

"_Check it out,_

_ Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, yeah_-"

Hermione found herself with her towel raised above her head and stretched tight between her two hands while jiggling her bum like a pro.

"_Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, yeah_

_ Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, yeah_

_ Do the wiggle man,_

_ I do the wiggle man_

_ Yeah_-"

"_I'm sexy and I know it_,"

Millicent finished, causing all movement to cease.

After a moment of devine contemplation, Hermione slowly lowered her arms, grabbed her wand from her bedside table, and repaired her ripped pants with a slightly pink face.

Daphne looked between the four of them for a moment, no one speaking, before she snorted lightly and walked out of the dormitory without another amused glance back.

Damn bloody curse.

* * *

><p>"This is awfully boring," Blaise - Neville had taken to calling him 'Blaise' after the first week or so - sighed in discontent.<p>

They were in the library, as per usual, hidden behind shelves of books away from prying eyes.

The two of them had been meeting every day in the same spot for two weeks, and between the two of them they had accomplished...absolutely nothing.

"Well you're welcome to just walk away then," Neville snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "No ones forcing you to be here, you know."

Blaise sighed forlornly, giving Neville a very convincing puppy-dog look. "Don't get offended, Neville, you know what I mean!"

"I know that you sitting here whining isn't helping anyone," Neville grumbled, looking down at the book in his lap with a slight glower.

He knew, he just knew, that all of their problems would be solved if Blaise would just let him ask Hermione for help. She knew everything, after all.

Two weeks of late-night study sessions with Blaise, abandoning homework, abandoning friends, sometimes even abandoning hygiene, and all of their problems would cease to exist if Hermione knew what they were trying to do. Who could possibly find books about musical curses? Hermione could of course.

But no...every time Neville mentioned asking her for help, Blaise would get this strange look on his face and snap irritably until Neville gave up. Personally, Neville thought that Blaise was still prejudiced against muggleborns. Because there was no other rational explanation.

"Don't be like that," Blaise whined (like the closet girl Neville had found him to be), pushing the book off of Neville's lap and sitting down in its place. "I wasn't saying we should stop, I was just saying -"  
>"Please stop molesting me," Neville cut in, attempting to push Blaise off of him. Which instead made Blaise wrap his arms securely around Neville's neck. It was uncomfortable at the very least, and Neville was sure that the only reason Blaise continued to violate his personal space was because he was bored and Neville was easy to pick on.<p>

"No thank you, I don't - Why hello, Astoria!" Blaise greeted brightly, causing Neville to shift awkwardly in an attempt to turn in his seat.

Astoria Greengrass stared at the two of them for a good long minute before speaking. "I was going to make a gay joke," She told them with a forlorn sigh that sounded eerily like Blaise's, "butt fuck it."

* * *

><p>AN: Hope you all liked it. And again: if you want to request a song, put it in your nifty reviews =)


	7. I Wish I Was Queer So I Could Get Chicks

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: I had alot of trouble writing this chapter. Too many other random things in my head =(.

Song: I Wish I Was Queer So I could Get Chicks - Bloodhound Gang - Album:

**Chapter 07 - I Wish I Was Queer (So I Could Get Chicks)**

"I give up," Blaise said, throwing the old, musty tome on the table and glaring at Neville as if daring him to argue.

The problem with this was that Neville wasn't too terribly scared of Blaise anymore. "We can't give up," he reminded the Slytherin, setting his own book on the table as well, though in a less damaging fashion. "McGonagall-"

"Bugger McGonagall," Blaise snapped, crossing his arms and pouting. "I've been reading so fucking much that I've gone half blind! _Half blind_ I tell you! We've been at this for _weeks_, Neville, we've read almost every _bloody _book in this _bloody_ library and_ none _of them talk about musical curses. She shouldn't have_ bloody_ asked us to do this in the first place! She should've asked the _bloody_ Ravenclaws, they get off on this sort of thing, and if I get detention one more _bloody _time for turning in my homework late I'm going to-"

"Blaise," Neville hissed, leaning over the table to clap a hand over Blaise's mouth. "If you keep shouting like that, Madam Pince will kick us out!"

Blaise responded with something that sounded like an insolent 'good' but it was muffled so Neville couldn't be sure.

"Look, I was thinking about this last night, and maybe if we ask McGonagall, she'll let us go to Diagon Alley and look for books there. I know it's a stretch, but we'd be able to get out of the castle for a bit, and - hey!"

Neville retracted his now slimy hand from Blaise's mouth, wiping his palm on his robes with a grimace. Blaise was glaring at him.

"Do you honestly think she'd let us leave _unsupervised_?" He asked with a disdainful sneer. "if you came back with one little scratch on your pretty face the strict bint would probably accuse me trying to murder you!"

Neville pointedly ignored the 'pretty face' comment, instead latching on to the rest of the statement. "Why on Earth would I come back in anything less than perfect health?" He asked, honestly confused and now a little worried. Blaise wouldn't try to murder him, would he?

Blaise's eyes glinted eerily and a wide, slightly lecherous smirk took the place of his earlier sneer. "I can think of a few things, can't you?"

Neville could feel his cheeks flame up, but he pointedly ignored that as well. "Well I'm going to ask her anyways."

"Where's the firewhiskey?" Harry asked Draco as soon as the portrait hole closed behind him. His face was red, his robes had some sort of green goo hanging off of them, and the left lens on his glasses was cracked.

The common room occupants stopped their conversations just to stare at him, which wasn't really improving Harry's mood at all.

"Potter," Draco greeted cautiously, staring at Harry as though he were a particularly large insect that might attack at any moment.

"Firewhiskey," Harry repeated through clenched teeth. "Where?"

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione ventured quietly, standing up with Ron and walking hesitantly up to him.

"Don't come too close," Harry warned them, his lips pursed and obvious fury marring his face, "I think this shit is poisonous."

"Err..." Ron replied eloquently, at which point Draco seemed to decide to take action.

"It's in my trunk, follow me."

And Harry did, shooting Ron and Hermione what he hoped was a reassuring look as he and Draco made their way up to the boy's dormitory.

"What exactly are you covered in, and why haven't you used a cleaning charm?" Draco asked as he opened the door. Harry waited until he was several feet ahead before following, just in case.

"I'm not sure, and I tried," Harry explained shortly. "And now I want to get these blasted things off and get so plastered that I forget my own name, let alone everything else. What the hell is taking so long?" He added, pulling the robes off gingerly in an attempt to not get any of the green goo on his skin.

"You don't think I'd leave my trunk unprotected, did you," Draco scoffed in between pointing his wand at his trunk and muttering spells that Harry couldn't hear. If Harry hadn't known that Draco wasn't a wizard, he would've thought that the blonde looked a bit like a loon.

Harry responded with a noncommittal noise and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it silently to the floor.

"And what do you mean you _tried_," Draco continued disdainfully. "Are you truly that horrible at cleaning spells?"

"I tried, Slughorn tried, it didn't work," Harry snapped, unbuttoning his pants. "How protected does your bloody trunk have to be?" He added in frustration.

It was at that point that Draco turned around. Harry froze, watching as Draco's eyes widened and took in Harry's appearance. Well he probably didn't look too good, he was sure. He had a couple of bruises on his chest, and he was positive that he probably looked like a right idiot with his hands still at the zipper on his jeans. Still, the shocked look was a little uncalled for. "_What_?"

Draco's tongue darted out to wet his lips and he took a step forward. It was only at this point that Harry realized something that he felt to be extremely important. He and Draco were alone in a room and Harry was half-naked. He was pretty sure that he should hurry up and get redressed before something regrettable happened, but Draco was staring quite hard at him and Harry felt himself pinned by the blonde's gaze.

In what felt like no time at all Draco was stopping a few inches away from him, making Harry look up to meet the renowned silvery eyes that seemed oddly warm from up close.

_'Move damn you, move!'_

Harry swallowed hard, feeling a bit trapped. Was it just him or had the room become incredibly warm and stuffy so that he couldn't breathe.

"Can I help you?" Harry asked, cursing his stupid voice for choosing that particularly moment to sound all low and crackly and scared.

Malfoy opened his mouth - to answer or curse him or maybe something completely different, Harry wasn't sure - but was cut short by the door banging open.

"You okay up here, Harry? What happen- um...oh." Harry looked at Ron just in time to see his best friend take a quick step back. "So sorry, I'll just be, um, you know...don't mind me..." Harry watched Ron's ears go pink as he hurriedly ran away, shutting the door behind him.

"What a strange Weasel," Draco murmured, staring after Ron with one raised eyebrow. Harry couldn't help but secretly agree. "Anyways," Draco continued, shrugging slightly and turning back to Harry. "As I was about to say - give me your glasses."

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously, finally taking a step back. Draco responded by rolling his eyes and grabbing the glasses from Harry's face before he could protest.

"_Reparo_," he said flatly, pointing his wand at Harry's eyesight. "Idiot," he added, shoving the newly repaired glasses into Harry's hands. Harry gingerly placed the glasses back on his face as Draco spun around. "And put on some clothes, Potter - you look like some uncouth barbarian."

"That's redundant." It was the only thing Harry could think to say as he hurriedly changed into his pajama's.

"It's not," Draco argued, bending down to grab two firewhiskey bottles. "'Uncouth' means awkward and unmannerly, whilst a 'Barbarian' -"  
>"Is someone who's uncivilized - perhaps awkward, and unmannerly. Redundant," Harry finished, feeling more than a little victorious.<p>

Draco glared at him. "I was commenting on your state of undress, though you are both awkward and unmannerly. Now, if you want to drink my very, _very_ expensive liquor, I would suggest you act a bit nicer."

...Damn! Foiled again!

"Fine," Harry agreed sullenly. "...Sorry."

Draco smirked. "Much better," he said, handing a bottle to Harry. Harry waited until his back was turned before sneering. Just on the off chance that Draco might want to take it back. "Now why do you feel the need to get drunk...other than the obvious and unfortunate fact that you were born. If you're feeling guilty about that, I'm afraid that alcohol won't solve your problem."

"Git," Harry mumbled in between burning gulps of the 'very expensive liquor'.

"- Running into the common room like some sort of Gryffindor -"

"I _am _a Gryffindor."

"-Yelling at me with your smelly robes and untidy hair...have you ever heard of a comb? Or perhaps a shower?"

"Of course I have, you idiot."

"It's embarrassing to know you sometimes, Potter. You're possibly the most -"

"_Please_ stop talking."

"I'm sorry, were you saying something?" Draco asked, looking down at him curiously. Harry sighed and sat down heavily on the nearest bed.

"You have some serious mental issues, Malfoy," Harry told him seriously, taking another drink of firewhiskey.

Draco raised one fine blonde eyebrow. "Says the Golden Boy. I believe that makes you the pot, yes? And I'm the kettle and we're both black. Though I still maintain that your strange saying sounds awfully racist."

"It's not racist," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. "And stop talking."

Draco 'harrumphed', but sat down next to Harry silently. They sat there drinking, the only sounds coming from the common room...for about a minute and a half.

"So seriously, what happened?"

Harry grimaced, admitting defeat. "Detention. With Filch. I don't want to talk about it. How's it going with your mother? Did she ever write you back?"

"Yes," Draco answered, sneering slightly at the air in front of him. "And she was her usual vague and excruciatingly polite self. In half a page, I learned absolutely nothing."

Harry couldn't help but snigger slightly. "Does that mean she's more of a Slytherin than you?"

"No," Draco replied immediately, then paused. "She's just been at it longer than I have. She has more experience."

"So she's _old_," Harry summed up, his sniggering transforming into full-blown giggles.

Draco scoffed. "You're so childish, Potter. You're eighteen. Grow up."

"Never," Harry said seriously, straight-faced for almost two seconds before he was doubled up in laughter. Draco's lips twitched upwards, which Harry assumed was the best he was going to get.

"You find humor in the strangest things," Draco sighed, shaking his head slightly and taking a swig of firewhiskey. Harry stared at the motion, feeling quite pleasant and a little dizzy. "What do you think Ron meant," he asked, more as a way to continue the light conversation rather than actual curiosity.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific," Draco drawled, blinking heavily at him.

"The other morning, when I was making fun of you."

"Oh," Draco replied sarcastically, "that certainly narrows it down."

"You know what I mean!" Harry exclaimed, waving his arms erratically and narrowly missing Draco's eyes. "With the shagging, and the...the...well I don't remember what else, but Zabini agreed. Do they know something we don't? I'm very _confused_."

"You're drunk," Draco answered flatly. "Not even a quarter of the bottle's gone, and you're already drunk. You are absolutely _ridiculous_, Potter."

"I'm not drunk," Harry argued stubbornly. "If I was, I wouldn't have realized that you're avoiding the question." He wasn't drunk. He felt fuzzy and light all the time!

Draco sneered. "Obviously, you drunken moron, Weasel is under the impression that we're secretly lusting after each other like two fourth-year girls. Which isn't true at all. Just because we have a habit of waking up in the same bed, doesn't mean..."

Harry stopped listening, too fascinated with the way Draco's lips formed words. It was done in very proper movements. He was jealous...he probably looked like a half-mute ass when he talked.

"_Stop trying to imagine what it would be like to snog me, dammit_!" Draco snapped loudly, effectively cutting off Harry's envious thoughts.

"I wasn't," Harry defended immediately. Mostly as a reflex, partly because he was being honest.

"I assure you," Draco continued, ignoring him, "that while snogging me would probably be the best moment of your life, there's only a ten percent chance of it ever happening. So you might as well just put it out of your mind."

"Really?" Harry asked, interested despite himself. "There's actually a percentage that's more than zero?"

"Many of them," Draco told him seriously. "From one and above. Just start counting in your head, you'll name off them all."

Harry scoffed, waving his hands erratically again. "You know what I mean."

"Stop trying to hit me!" Draco exclaimed, shooting his head back as Harry's arms flailed and once again narrowly missed Draco's eyes. "Watch where you're aiming those things, Potter!"

"I didn't mean to!"

"Yes you did!"

"No I didn't!"

"Yes you did!" Draco yelled, jumping to his feet and pointing accusingly at Harry.  
>"No I didn't!" Harry repeated firmly, mirroring Draco's motions furiously.<p>

"No I didn'!."  
>"Yes you did - oh bugger!"<p>

Draco smirked victoriously. "You would've made a horrible Slytherin."

"Thank Merlin," Harry agreed, pouting slightly.

"...You're swaying," Draco pointed out after a moment of silence. And to Harry's surprise he realized it was true. He was, in fact, swaying.

"Oh bugger," he repeated before promptly falling on to Draco.

Michael Corner walked down the boys staircase with wide eyes. What he had just seen...oh god! His virgin eyes!

"Michael?" Padma asked as his left foot thumped dully on the last stair. "Is everything alright?" Michael shook his head, quite unaware that he was even answering, as leaned heavily against the nearest wall.

"What I've just seen...it was horrible..." he shuddered as the image popped into his head once more. Dear sweet Merlin! Why? WHY! "I-I was...going upstairs to ask Harry if he needed help with his Charms homework...he said he'd been having trouble with it and I was only trying to be nice, but then..."

"What?" Sue Li after Michael stopped abruptly and shuddered again.0 "Harry's not hurt is he?"

"Harry? Hurt?" Hemione asked, popping up from her chair and looking slightly terrifying with the determined expression. "Do you know how hurt? Was he still conscious?"

"Snogging..." Michael whispered, his eyes shut tightly and a grimace marring his face. "Snogging...urgh."

"Snogging _who_?" Padma shrieked, making the chatter in the common room stop abruptly. "Is it that Jones bint? Where's that shank, Sue? I'll kill her!"

"Hey!" Megan Jones exclaimed defensively from across the room.

"M-M-Malfoy," Michael managed to get out, his single word met with a gasp from almost every female eighth year. "S-Snogging...Malf-foy...on the floor..."

The room erupted in the screams of heart-broken girls.

"Not Harry!"  
>"But I was in love with him! How could he do this to me?"<p>

"Draco? My Draco? Kissing another boy? Preposterous!"

"We were supposed to get married and have babies!"

"I told you! You owe me ten galleons!"

It was utter chaos. With this small bit of news, girls were reduced to nothing more than sobbing messes, and a few of the boys' faces had drained of all color.

Michael looked around the common room, blinking rapidly as he did so. This was not the horror he'd expected upon telling everyone the awful truth about Harry and Malfoy. They weren't upset that it was Malfoy - Draco sodding Malfoy - simply that it was another male.

Was it like this for all homosexuals? Did they have girls fawning over them all of the time? Michael's last girlfriend had been Ginny Weasley, and that was only to make Harry jealous of him.

If he was gay then did that mean girls would want him?

Michael cocked his head to the side, watching the mayhem and thinking.

Perhaps...hmmmm...

"_My friend Anthony Goldstein kissed me in Divination class_"

Everything stopped as Michael announced what he hoped would be the beginning to a wonderful life. Anthony glared at him.

"_Later in the afternoon some giants in the locker room kicked my ass_"

Wait! He wasn't supposed to be continuing on. That should've been enough. Why was he still singing?

_ "I said guys I'm like you I like Quidditch too_

_ Wanna see how many push-ups I can do?_

_ I just wish I was queer so I could get chicks"_

Shit.

_ "Chicks dig guys that are_

_ Queer guys that don't dig_

_ Chicks that don't dig guys like me_

_ See I'm not queer I'm too ugly."_

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

_ "But if I were handsome just imagine how great it would be_

_ Incognito as gay though but not actually that way though pseudo homo phony_

_ Maybe it's a stupid theory or maybe just stupidity_

_ But if I was a queerbee in the fashion industry_

_ Scoring with a super model would be easy"_

There were an awful lot of girls glaring at Michael. It was unfortunate that he couldn't seem to run away.

_ "Cause 'super model' means voluptuous but is also is synonymous with 'super dumb'_

_ Ya see I'd be a good listener so she'd treat me like a sister and soon I'd become_

_ That trusted friend that cares that rubs her back and braids her hair_

_ No it wouldn't be a week before I'm in her underwear_

_ I wish I was queer so I could get chicks."_

"Excuse me!" Pansy Parkinson exclaimed, looking quite offended. Michael smiled weakly.

_ "Chicks dig guys that are_

_ Queer guys that don't dig_

_ Chicks that don't dig guys like me_

_ See I'm not queer I'm too ugly."_

"Will someone please stupify him?" Terry Boot yelled from the boys dorm, and Michael silently agreed. Would someone please for the love of Merlin PLEASE STUPIFY HIM!

_ "Doesn't matter what I'm packin' in my denim it's what's in my genes_

_ The only smoked meat the only sausage I would eat is made by Jimmy Dean_

_ See I'm not to keen on the smell of Vaseline_

_ No I'm not Princess Di and I don't wanna be a queen_

_ I wish I was queer so I could -"_

A red light and Michael was on the floor. Thank goodness.


	8. Lets Get Fucked Up And Die

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: So I found the plug to my MP3 player that I had in high school, and it gave me a lot of new song choices. This is one of them.

Song: L.G. Fuad - Motion City Soundtrack - Album: Commit This To Memory

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 08 - Lets Get Fucked Up And Die<strong>

Harry was used to students whispering and pointing at him when he walked down to breakfast. He'd been dealing with it since first year. At this point, when they weren't pointing and whispering, he began to get worried.

However, usually he knew why they were pointing and whispering. That morning was not one of those times. He'd woken a bit late, admittedly, but he certainly wasn't the last eighth year to leave. Neville and Zabini were both passed out on their respective beds right at that very moment (most likely), which wasn't unusual for them anymore. So if it wasn't because he was up late, what in Merlin's name could it be?

They couldn't still be going on about him defeating Voldemort, could they? No, of course not, if that's what was going on they'd be asking him for autographs (bleh) or singing his praises loud enough for him to hear (double bleh).

It couldn't be that he'd gotten that detention last night. Sure, he'd been a little angry by the end of it, but not enough to warrant rumors.

Maybe it was about Harry getting drunk with Draco? But no, that happened all the time, how...

Or perhaps, they'd done something stupid last night and Harry didn't remember it. He didn't know if they were pointing and whispering at Draco, because Harry hadn't even seen Draco this morning.

It was the only lead he had, and so he continued to walk down to the Great Hall with a new sort of determination. Ron and Hermione would know, definitely. They would tell him what stupid thing he'd done the night before.

That's what friends were for, after all.

"What did I do?" Harry asked his two best friends as he sat down across from them at the Eighth Year table. "Was it terribly horrible? Oh Merlin - I didn't do something heroic again, did I?"

"No," Ron said flatly, pouting like he'd just lost a hundred galleon. And from the smug expression on Hermione's face, he probably had. Well, not a hundred galleons...one or two, maybe.

"Interesting conversation last night, Harry," Hermione told him, giving a smirk that could rival a Slytherin's. Harry groaned as he piled food onto his plate, already expecting the worst. So he_ had_ done something heroic, then...damn instincts. "Michael came down from the boys dormitory's looking like a ghost, and-"

"And you snogged Malfoy, Harry!" Ron hissed, sounding quite upset. "You realize I was betting five galleons that Malfoy'd snog you first, and you just had to go and ruin it, didn't you!"

Harry had expected just about anything, but that certainly hadn't crossed his mind. Because he didn't remember a lot about last night, but he was pretty sure he'd remember_ that_.

"They think I kissed_ Malfoy_?" Harry whispered, horrified. "You think_ I_ kissed Malfoy? I did _not_!"

"Well Michael thinks you did," Hermione told him reasonably as Ron's face and ears went a deep shade of red. "And between him and the Hufflepuff girls, so does everyone else, now."

Harry surreptitiously glanced at Draco, who was a few shades paler than normal and was staring at his plate like it was going to eat him. Surely _Draco_ didn't think that they'd snogged?

If the expression on his face was anything to by...yes, he did.

"I didn't snog Malfoy," Harry repeated quietly, leaning across the table so that he wouldn't be heard by any other eighth years. "But he doesn't know that."

"Harry," Ron began soothingly (which was a strange sound coming from Ron), "How do you know you didn't snog Malfoy? The two of you barely ever remember the night before...remember?"

"No," Harry answered, his head accidentally bumping on Hermione's, "But I think I know why Michael would say that."

"Because he wishes he was queer so he could get chicks?" Hermione asked, making Ron snort in laughter. This was already becoming the weirdest morning ever. Everyone thought he'd made out with Draco (including Draco), Ron was trying to be soothing, and Hermione was making jokes that Harry didn't immediately understand. Perhaps he'd gotten drunker than intended.

"Because I accidentally fell onto Malfoy last night." Even to his own ears it sounded ridiculous. But it was still true. Ron and Hermione did an identical eyebrow raise.

"So you two _did_ snog, then," Ron sighed, and Harry fought the urge to laugh. So silly.

"Of course not," Harry told him, "I just became a bit unbalanced is all. And of course it took about a minute to get up but that was only because we'd gotten tangled up." When their skeptic expressions didn't cease, Harry began to get desperate. "I wasn't _that_ drunk! Merlin!"

"So...you just fell on top of him, you didn't do anything...of interest?" Hermione asked, wording the question carefully.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You two are so gullible sometimes - believing Michael Corner instead of me. I'm offended."

Ron's eyes widened and his face seemed to light up in excitement. "I just got the best idea, mate." Oh goodness, that didn't sound good. "If _Malfoy _thinks you two snogged...well...we could have some fun with this.

Harry was a little lost, but Hermione seemed to catch on because she immediately said "No, Ron! That's a horrible thing to do! Do you see his face? Imagine what he would look like if Harry confirmed it!"

Ohhhhh. Harry covertly glanced at Draco again, who'd begun picking moodily at his waffles. "It would serve him right," he muttered after a moment, taking to the idea at once. "After all the shit he's put us through...he would do the same to me...it would actually be kind of funny." Alright, now he was just making excuses.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed, sounding scandalized. "You mustn't -"

She cut off when Harry abruptly got to his feet and began walking to the other side of the table. The entire Great Hall went quiet as he tapped Draco on the shoulder.

Harry tried to blush, but he wasn't sure if it was working or not. His cheeks felt a bit hotter...maybe. "_Draco_," Harry greeted him, trying to seem as innocent as possible.

Draco turned to stare at him, horrified. "P-Potter?"

Harry had only seen Draco off-kilter a few times. In fact, he could count them all on one hand - when Hermione punched him, when Pretend-Moody turned him into a ferret, when Harry caught him crying in Myrtle's bathroom, at Draco's home when Harry, Ron, and Hermione got caught, and when Crabbe tried to kill them all in the Room of Requirement.

He had high hopes for this one.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Harry told him meekly, doing his best 'blushing bride' impression. "I just wanted to say that I thought last night was really great, and..." He smiled in what he hoped was a cute way, "...and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to do it again last night."

Draco's jaw dropped to the floor with a thud. "_What_?"

Harry's face was definitely red now, because he was trying very, _very _hard not laugh. It took a moment for him to calm down (mentally), and he tried to make it look like he was nervous. It was difficult, because he'd never been so confident in his life. Nor had he ever seen anything so hilarious.

"Well," Harry continued after he caught a grip on himself, "you know that last night was my first...time."

He was pretty sure Hermione had squeaked, and Ron sounded like he was choking.

Draco's eyes went, if possible, even wider, before clapping a hand over his mouth and running out of the Great Hall. Thinking that Draco was about to puke, Harry followed, sniggering even as he jogged to keep up.

As it turned out, Draco was not running to the loo to vomit, but instead stopped a few feet past the door to the closed door, uncovered his mouth, and burst into song.

Well that made more sense.

"_Let's get fucked up and die_,"

Wait, what?

Draco was staring at Harry, not with his horrified stare, but instead with a small smile.

"_I'm speaking figuratively of course_,"

Oh, okay.

"_Like the last time that I committed suicide - Social suicide_."

Draco grabbed Harry by the hand, and Harry had to struggle to break free.

"_Yeah, so I'm already dead on the inside,_

_ But I can still pretend with my memories and photographs,_

_ I have learned to love the lie_."

Draco, despite Harry's obvious protests, grabbed Harry's hand again. Both of them, this time.

"_I want to know what it's like to be awkward and innocent, not belligerent_."

"Good luck with that," Harry muttered, tugging his hands to get them away from Draco's grasp. It wasn't working.

"_I want to know how it feels to be useful and pertinent and have common sense yeah_,"

"I don't see that ever happening," Harry told him seriously, tugging harder.

"_Let me in, let me into the club, 'cause I want to belong,_

_ And I need to get strong, and if memory serves_

_ I'm addicted to words they're useless_..."

"Stop it!" Harry demanded, attempting to step back, only have Draco follow him.

"_In this department_

_ Let's get fucked up and die_

_ I'm riding hard on the last lines of every lie,_

_ And the BMX bike of my life is about to explode_-"

"You don't even know what a BMX bike is," Harry pointed out flatly, wanting to cross his arms but currently being unable to.

"_I'm about to explode._

_ I'm a mess I'm a wreck,_

_ I am perfect and I have learned to accept_ -"

"Now you're just being redundant."

"-_All my problems and short-comings,_

_ 'Cause I am so visceral yet deeply inept_."

Harry was about to respond when Draco suddenly let go of his hands and threw his arms around Harry in a hug. Dammit, this was getting ridiculous.

"_I want to thank you for being my part forget-me-nots and marigolds_,"

"Get off," Harry grunted, knowing it wouldn't work but wishing with all his might that it would. Harry was feeling much too nice in Draco's arms to be normal, and therefore it had to stop.

"_And all the things that don't get old,_

_ Is it legal to do this? I surely don't know_."

"No," Harry snapped, trying to get his hands between their bodies so that he could push Draco off. For a skinny, pale little twat, he was really strong.

"_It's the only way I have learned to express myself_

_ through other peoples' descriptions of life_

_ I'm afraid I'm alone and entirely useless_,"

"I'll knee you in the bullocks," Harry told him seriously. "I swear I will."

"_In this department_"

Draco suddenly let him go, which Harry greatly appreciated because he was pretty sure that he wouldn't have actually kneed him in the bullocks. It would take more than a hug for him to be _that_ cruel.

"_Let's get fucked up and die_

_ For the last time with feeling_ -"

Oh thank Merlin, it was almost over.

"-_We'll try not to smile_

_ As we cover our heads and drink heavily into the nights_."

Well that explained why Draco was singing it to _him_.

"_That still shock and surprise_

_ I belive that I can overcome this and beat everything in the end_

_ But I choose to abuse for the time being,_

_ Maybe I'll win but for now I've decided to die_!"

"Are you suicidal?" Harry asked, already knowing that Draco wouldn't (more like couldn't) answer. "Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"_Brother soldier_

_ You've been such a positive influence on my mental frame_

_ If I could ever repay you, _

_ I would, but I'm hard up for cash_

_ And my memory lacks initiativ_e."

"That does sound like a problem," Harry agreed, now just talking to himself.

"_God damn the liquor store's closed_,"

Draco put his hands on Harry's shoulders and Harry had the oddest feeling that this wasn't going to end well.

"_We were so close to scoring_

_ It hurts, it destroys 'til it kills,_

_ I am tired and hungry and totally useless_."

"Not _totally_ useless," Harry told him, all the while wondering why Draco's face was getting closer.

"_In this department_."

Draco jumped back suddenly, making Harry sigh in relief. Joking around was one thing, actually snogging him was a completely different act that he had no interest to participate in. No interest at all.

And anyways, that didn't seem like a very 'snog'ing song.

"I implore you to never speak of this again," Draco said, a bit shakily, leaning against the wall and trembling.

"My lips are sealed," Harry promised, thinking that no one would believe him anyways.

Draco nodded slowly. "...Good."

* * *

><p>"Professor McGonagall," Neville began that evening after dinner. Blaise stood beside him, his hands clasped behind his back and an innocent expression on his face that seemed to say 'I have nothing to do with this'.<p>

They stood in the Headmistress' office, with said Headmistress sitting behind her large desk. It almost felt as if they were on trial for murder, with the way she was staring skeptically at them.

"Professor McGonagall," Neville tried again, ignoring Blaise as he began swaying slightly on the spot like he was dancing to music in his head. "Blaise and I have been all over the library and there's nothing even close to our problem."

"Perhaps you should try the restricted section," McGonagall suggested, glaring at them beneath her spectacles.

"We already have," Neville told her calmly. "We've look at every book in the restricted section. Professor, it's almost been a month and we haven't got anything, so Blaise and I were thinking-"

"No," Blaise cut in, turning his head to glower at Neville, "this is all on _you_. I have absolutely nothing to do with this. In fact, you should be happy I'm even here."

Neville rolled his eyes, making sure Blaise caught it. "Fine. I was thinking that perhaps on the next Hogsmeade weekend, Blaise and I could go to Flourish & Blott's in Diagon Alley and see if there's anything there."

"And you've asked Madam Pince to direct you to the books in the library?" McGonagall continued as if Neville hadn't spoken.

"Yes," Blaise answered, sounding quite bored. Which made him look a lot more innocent than when he was actually _trying_ to look innocent.

"Both of you want to go? Together?" McGonagall looked skeptic at this.

"I want to not burst into song every other day," Neville admitted.  
>"Ditto," Blaise agreed with a drawl.<p>

"And if this is the way to do it...well, we've been working together so far," Neville attempted to smile at his former Transfiguration Professor.

"We're almost friends," Blaise added, sounding completely unconvincing. Which wasn't right, because Neville thought that he and Blaise were friends. Or at least colleagues who got along with each other really well (most of the time).

"And I suppose you'd prefer not to have supervision?" McGonagall sighed, crossing her arms on the desk.

"Well, Professor, we _are _eighteen," Blaise reminded her, sounding quiet impertinent. "You know - adults."

"It's not as if we plan to go running down the street in just our knickers singing the Hallelujah chorus," Neville agreed, earning him two raised eyebrows from both McGonagall and Blaise.

"The what?"

"Hallelujah Chorus," Neville repeated. "You know -" He hummed a bit, trying to explain without actually singing it. Blaise stared at him blankly, but McGonagall's mouth twitched upwards for a moment.

"I suppose," she began strictly as if to make up for her momentary show of amusement, "that you can go to Diagon Alley if you swear you won't, in fact, run down the street in your undergarments. However if you'd like to sing Hallelujah Chorus, you are more than welcome to."

"You couldn't pay me," Neville promised.

"I cannot promise anything," Blaise added seriously.

* * *

><p>AN: please review and tell me what you thought. And if you have a song you want one of them (or all of them) to sing, I will most certainly try.


	9. If You're Into It

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: So SignatureSinful asked when Ron was going to sing something. I've had something for him for a while now, I just haven't found a time to do it yet. I think this is a good time, though, so here it is. Prepare to be amazed!

Song: If You're Into It - Flight Of The Conchords - Album: The Distant Future

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 09 - If You're Into It<strong>

"Harry...I was wondering if you could help me with something." Ron said, feeling hopeful and a bit nervous. It was one of the few times that the two best friends had had time to hang out with each other, just the two of them, and Ron wanted to take full advantage of it. The first Hogsmeade weekend was coming up in a couple of days, and Ron wanted to make it as special for Hermione as possible.

So Ron and Harry sat, blissfully alone, in their dormitory for the second time since they'd returned to Hogwarts. It wasn't only Harry's fault, it was Ron's fault to. He was trying to spend as much time with his girlfriend (finally) as possible, and it was hard when they were stuck in a castle full of hundreds of students. And, of course, Harry was spending just about every waking moment trying to woo Malfoy. Or maybe it was the other way around. The point was, was that there was wooing going on between Harry and Malfoy, which didn't leave a lot of time for Ron to hang out with him.

Hell, the only reason they were spending time alone right then was because Hermione was studying furiously for the first quiz of the year (something Ron decided he didn't particularly want to participate in), Malfoy was planning something (probably evil) with Parkinson and Nott in the common room, and Neville and Blaise were doing whatever the hell they did every evening.

So it was really just luck.

"Sure, mate," Harry replied easily, leaning back on Ron's bed and staring up at him interestedly. "What's up?"

This was the first conversation that they'd had that wasn't just insipid amusement, and the fact wasn't lost of Ron.

"Well you see..." and so Ron began to explain his very elaborate plan, full of twists, turns, and surprises, so that by the end, Harry was staring at him with a shocked expression.

"That's a wonderful idea, Ron!" Harry exclaimed, jumping up and patting Ron heartily on the back.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief. Thank Merlin, Harry was agreeing to it.

"Couldn't do it without you, though," Ron told him seriously, even as he smiled a bit in excitement.

This was going to be _wicked_.

* * *

><p>Draco sat in the corner of the common room with Pansy and Theo, watching their horrified expressions and waiting for one of them to say something.<p>

"You cannot be serious, Draco," Pansy hissed after a moment of shocked silence. "Potter? Harry Bloody Potter?"

"I told you they hadn't snogged," Theo muttered victoriously to Pansy, who only ignored him.

"I don't care if you two wake up in the same bed every bloody morning for the rest of your lives! I don't care if you two spend all of your free time getting smashed together! I don't even care if you two shag like baby bunnies in front of everyone!" Draco knew that Pansy didn't mean it the way she was saying it, but still, it didn't sound so bad like that. "Draco, he's Harry Potter! The Boy Who Defeated The Dark Lord! The biggest hero of the wizarding world since Albus Fucking Dumbledore! And you, my friend, are nothing more than a reformed Death Eater, with a resourceful mother and an imprisoned father, both of which disowned you. I love you, darling, but you don't stand a chance."

"Couldn't you have just said that at the beginning?" Draco asked, feeling slightly annoyed. "An entire paragraph of useless knowledge and backstory, and I thought it would lead somewhere better than 'you don't stand a chance'."

"I think you stand a chance," Theo pointed out, straight and to the point as always. Most of the time, Draco found Theo to be quite annoying. This was not one of those times. This was one of those times that Draco simply _adored_ Theodore Nott.

And not just because he'd said something positive about a very negative predicament. Mostly.

"Thank you," Draco told him, smiling brilliantly at his fellow Slytherin. "I appreciate that."

"Theodore's just trying to make you feel better - _why_, I don't know, but he's not being honest," Pansy snapped, sending a covert glare in Theo's general direction. "And _you're _not being realistic."

"Well it's not like I meant to _feel_ _stuff_ for Potter," Draco exclaimed quietly, feeling a bit defensive. "I know it's not realistic, but...but...we're bloody Slytherins! We can make it realistic!"

"And what makes you think Theodore and I will help you?" Pansy asked, arching one black eyebrow.

"I'll help you," Theo spoke up, making Draco adore him even more.

Draco turned to Pansy, already ready with his fluttering eyelashes and jutted out bottom lip. "_Please_, Pansy? _Please_ help me obtain the sexiest boy in this school?"

Pansy stared at him blankly for over a minute before her expression darkened. "Damn you, Draco Malfoy. Damn you and your pretty eyelashes all to hell."

Ah, the sweet taste of victory.

"You realize you're going to have to start calling him 'Harry', don't you?"

And there went that.

* * *

><p>"So I was thinking that we could get lunch while we were out, today," Neville began as he and Blaise started the trek out of Hogwarts.<p>

They'd contacted Mr. Blotts, asking if he had a book pertaining to what they needed, which he said he'd have to look for but if he did then he'd be sure to have it for them by the time they came.

Blaise had stuck a coinpurse that he'd conveniently found in Pansy Parkinson's trunk so that they'd have something to put the books in if there were any to be had.

They were dressed, refreshed, given permission to leave, and ready for some action.

The Devilishly Handsome And Very Heroic Detectives,

Neville Longbottom and Blaise Zabini

Mission: Find The Answer To The Musical Curse On Hogwarts

(The Unrated Version)

(Limited Edition)

"Yeah," Blaise shrugged, unaffected. "Sure. Lunch."

Neville smiled brightly. "Fucking wonderful! Let's get this mother fucking fucker on the road then, shall we, you adorable little Slytherin fucker!"

Blaise stopped, turned, and stared at Neville curiously, causing the Gryffindor to shrug. "What? It's the Unrated Version."

Blaise nodded in seeming understanding. "Oh, right. I forgot we were doing that today. Erm...bastard."

"We're handsome and heroic, Blaise," Neville reminded the other boy with an exasperated sigh. "You can't say 'bastard'."

"Because I'm handsome and heroic?"

"Ex-fucking-xactly."

"You are way too excited for this, Longbottom," Blaise told Neville seriously. Neville only smiled.

They continued on their trek down to Hogsmeade, Neville saying random sentences with many swear words, and Blaise rolling his eyes every time Neville opened his mouth.

* * *

><p>"Are you ready?" Harry asked Ron, an acoustic guitar slung on his back. Ron nodded, took a deep breath, and descended the staircase. They'd worked all night on this, and finally there would be a result.<p>

"There you two are," Hermione exclaimed. She'd obviously been waiting in the common room for a while. "Harry? Why are you still in pajamas? And why are you carrying a guitar?"

Harry, unsure of how to explain without giving the surprise away, just said "I can't go to Hogsmeade, 'Mione, remember?"

"'Mione," Ron said, catching her attention and looking around nervously for any straggling eighth years. The common room was empty except for the three of them, and Malfoy, who was half-asleep on the couch in the corner. "I, um, I wrote you a song."

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him, even as her lips twitched upwards. "A song, Ron?"

Ron nodded quickly, glancing at the sleeping Malfoy once more. "I wrote the song, and Harry helped. D'you mind if we stay a bit longer so I can sing it to you?"

Harry fought the urge to snigger. This was going to be the best morning ever. Now he understood what Fred and George had meant when they said that Ron was gullible to pranks.

"Sure, Ron," Hermione agreed, sitting down and getting comfortable on the couch. Harry took the guitar from his back and began playing the little ditty he'd spent all night working on.

After all, what were friends for?

"_If you want me to_," Ron began to sing quietly, sounding quite embarrassed.

"_I can hang 'round with you,_

_ If I only knew, that that's what you're into_,"

Harry took his cue with the zeal of a newly formed prankster.

"_You and him, him and you_

_ If that's what you're into_

_ Him hangin' round, around you_

_ You hangin' round, yeah you're there too_."

"_And if you want me to, I will take off all my clothes for you,_"

Ron began again, ignoring the look of surprise that crossed Hermione's face.

"_I'll take off all my clothes for you_

_ If that's what you're into_"

Harry grinned.

"_How 'bout him in the nude?_

_ If that's what you're into_

_ In the nude in front of you_

_ Is that what you'd wanna view_?"

"Please, really, that's quite enou-" Hermione started, only to be cut off by Ron.

"_If it's cool with you, I'll let you get naked too_

_ It could be a dream come true, providing that's what you are into_."

Harry changed it up a bit at his next verse.

"_Is that what you're into?_

_ Him and you in the nude?_

_ That's what he's prepared to do_

_ Is that the kind of thing that you think you might be into_?"

Hermione was now a brilliant shade of red, her hands clasped tightly on her lap and her lips pursed as though unsure of whether or not to laugh or try to dissuade them from continuing.

"_And then maybe later we'll get hot by the refrigerator,_"

Ohh, Ron was really getting into it now. Even his voice had picked up volume.

"_In the kitchen next to the pantry_

_ You think that might be what you fancy_?"

Harry tried not to laugh.

"_In the buff, bein' rude_

_ Doin' stuff with the food_

_ Gettin' nude with his food_

_ We heard that's what you are into_."

"Oh did you," Hermione hissed, glaring accusingly at Harry, who only winked.

"_Then on our next date_

_ well you could bring our bestmate_

_ I don't know if Harry's is keen to_

_ But if you want we could double team you_."

Hermione's eyes went impossibly wide, and Harry was sure he heard Malfoy begin choking behind them.

"_How 'bout you and two dudes?_

_ Me, Ron, and you in the nude_

_ Bein' lewd with two dudes with food_

_ Well that's if I'm into it too_."

Harry winked again for effect as Ron finished up.

"_All the things I do_

_ The things I'd do for you_

_ If I only knew, that's what you're into_."

"Ron," Hermione began as the song stopped, "you know I love you...but please never write another song for me. Ever."

From behind them, Malfoy burst out laughing.

* * *

><p>"You're the fucking love of my fucking life, Blaise!" Neville exlcaimed loudly, causing Blaise to sit straight up in bed with his eyes wide as saucers.<p>

It had just been a dream. A strange, slightly realistic dream.

Neville was getting dressed and humming what sounded like he'd hummed the other day. Hallembumba Chorus or whatever.

They hadn't even left yet.

If Blaise had ever watched a television, or owned movies, or even knew what either of those things meant, he would've said that he'd just had a very 'Princess Bride' moment.

Luckily for everyone involved, he was clueless to 'The Princess Bride', and electronics in general.

"I just had the strangest dream," Blaise told Neville, getting out of bed with a little shake of his head.

Neville glanced over at him, smiling slightly. "Oh? What was it about?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

And that was that.

"So I was thinking that we could get lunch while we were out today..."

Blaise whimpered.

* * *

><p>AN: So I'm thinking about doing a tuesday/thursday schedule. So I guess the next chapter will be posted next tuesday sometime. Anyways, you know the drill.


	10. In Lust We Play

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: So I'm not going to be writing anymore for a little while. Something important is happening next Monday, and I'm either going to be too preoccupied or too devastated to do much of anything. I'm not sure which one yet, so I guess we'll just have to wait and see. Anyways, if nothing else I should have another chapter out by the end of the month. In theory. And if not, I apologize in advance.

Also, there's no song in this chapter. With the exception of the chapter title, of course. And yes, there's a reason for that.

Song: Lustbug - Sonny Moore - Album: Bells (I think)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10 - In Lust We Play<strong>

Harry watched his friends leave with a sad sort of contentment. They were all going to Hogsmeade, and he wasn't. Which was totally unfair, but he was Harry Bloody Potter, so what wasn't?

This was all because of that _stupid_ Filch and his_ stupid _detention for something completely and utterly _stupid_. Apparently it didn't matter how many times you saved the wizarding world, if you glued someone's ass to a drunken house elf, you got in trouble.

But how was _Harry_ supposed to know that that was against school rules? It wasn't in the book. He was sure because he'd asked Hermione.

Silly McGonagall and her 'making up school rules'.

"What are you still doing here, Potter?" A voice drawled behind Harry, making him jump a bit in surprise.

"Malfoy?" He asked, spinning around and feeling a mite confused. "Where did you come from?"

Draco gave Harry a slow smirk. "Well you see, when a pureblood loves another pureblood-"

"That's not what I meant!" Harry squealed in a very _manly_ way, his eyes going wide with horror.

"-The erect penis is inserted into-"

Harry clapped a hand over Draco's mouth, effectively cutting him off. "Please stop. I _really_ don't want to know."

Draco mumbled something incomprehensible in response. "What?" Harry asked, cocking his head to the side. Draco sighed and removed Harry's hand from his mouth.

"Surely you know where babies come from, Potter."

"Of course I do!" Harry exclaimed - still manly - crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not stupid, Malfoy."

"That's up for debate..."

"Will you just shut up!" Harry snapped, feeling quite annoyed and out of sorts. Normally they didn't bicker out in the open like this. People seemed to get the wrong idea.

Not that anyone else was around of course, seeing as everyone was in Hogsmeade.

Draco's mouth snapped closed, making Harry feel a bit victorious. It all lasted about ten seconds. "I want some tacos."

Harry groaned in exasperation, stalking away from Draco and the courtyard with the hope that maybe he'd get a bit of peace and quiet before everyone came back.

"You can't _leave_ me, Potter!" Draco yelled after him. "I'm _bored_!"

"Go to the kitchens and get some bloody tacos, then," Harry yelled back.

Harry hadn't planned on sneaking out of the castle, but if Draco was bored, then it would be better for everyone's mental health if he wasn't around.

"Where are you _going_?" Draco whined, hurrying after him.

"I'm running away," Harry told him, deciding it was useless to beat around the bush. "Because you're a madman. Leave me alone."

"Am not!" Draco argued immediately, keeping Harry's pace easily as they made their way up to the Eighth year common room. "I was just wanted to know why you're not going to Hogsmeade. Is that such a crime?"  
>"Because I'm not allowed," Harry told him shortly. "Why aren't <em>you<em> at Hogsmeade?"

"Because I'm penniless," Draco explained with a long-suffering sigh, "and going to Hogsmeade will only make me miss money even more."

Harry stopped, staring at him in surprise. "You're broke?"

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I got _disowned_, remember?"

Oh yeah.

"Er...right," Harry said, feeling a bit awkward.

"So," Draco continued as if nothing was wrong. "About this morning...I have to ask." All awkwardness was gone as Harry grinned wickedly. Oh, that had been so fun! "Was that song planned or was it the product of the musical curse?"

Harry sniggered at the memory of Hermione's face when Ron had begun singing to her. "Definitely planned. Hell, I helped write it. Heehee."

Draco stared at him. "You actually allowed Weasley to make a fool of himself? What kind of friend are you?"

"The kind that enjoys a bit of revenge," Harry replied, unaffected by Draco's disproval. "They both had it coming to them. Especially after what they said about..." He shuddered a bit at the memory. He still couldn't quite understand why his two best friends would think he'd snogged _Draco_. Madness.

"Yes, well - Crumple-Horned Snorkack -" the portrait hole opened to allow them into the common room, " - despite that...I must admit that it was clever. Good job, Pottter."

Harry sighed and sat down heavily on the nearest couch. "Do we really have to keep doing that?" He asked before he could stop himself. Harry knew, somewhere deep down inside of him, that he really needed to learn how to think before he spoke.

"Do what?" Draco asked, taking a seat across from him.

Harry could feel himself blush a bit. "It's just that we've known each other for eight years, and we're not even really enemies anymore...do we really have to keep calling each other by our surnames?"

Draco shrugged emphatically. "You started it."

"I did not!" Harry exclaimed defensively. "_You_ did. I'd never called someone by their last name before you turned up!"

"So sorry to influence you negatively," Draco replied sarcastically. "I'll try to curb it in the future."  
>"Too late," Harry muttered as he glowered a bit.<p>

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're positively _ridiculous_, Harry."

Harry took that as a good sign.

"What time is it?" Draco asked Harry through a yawn, which Harry immediately mirrored.

Harry checked his watch through bleary eyes, groaning as soon as he saw it. "We've still got _hours_ before dinner," he told Draco unhappily. "I want a bloody nap."

"Nap," Draco agreed, getting to his feet and stretching. Harry got up as well.

They'd been sitting in the common room and bickering all morning, with the occasional bout of doing homework thrust in. It was quickly becoming Harry's favorite past time, bickering with Draco. Because so many people were treating him different since he'd defeated Voldemort, and he was pleased to find out that Draco wasn't one of them.

He could always count on Draco to be a bastard. It was really nice to know.

"I think we're becoming old," Draco muttered as they made their way up to the boys dorms. "Taking a nap in the middle of the day is very unbecoming. Really, it's no wonder I was disowned - I make a terrible heir to the Malfoy line. Sleeping in the middle of the day. My father would be furious."

Oddly enough, he didn't sound upset by this at all. In fact, if Harry hadn't known better, he would of thought that Draco sounded quite happy with his statement.

"Only you would ever see that as a good thing, Draco," Harry replied, opening the door and walking to his bed just long enough for him to crash down on top of it. Oh, sweet relief.

"Yes," Draco replied sweetly, "I'm special. Scoot over, you fat bastard."

Harry didn't even hesitate. He'd become so used to getting drunk and passing out curled up with Draco that now he was almost dependant on it. Sleeping was so much better when there was someone else in your bed.

Draco laid down and immediately grabbed onto Harry, clutching on to him like a teddybear and murmuring, "so tired," against Harry's chest. Harry only nodded, yawning. "Pull up the bed curtains, would you?" Draco added, and Harry immediately complied, the two of them falling asleep almost immediately.

Neville had to try very hard not to laugh as he and Blaise made their way away from Hogwarts. It wasn't as though the trip itself was particularly funny - it was Blaise's reactions to everything.

He hadn't realized it would do so much when he'd read about it in one of those evil bloody books they'd both looked through the other night. All it said was that if someone was asleep, you could change their dreams with a bit of muggle hypnotism and a little spell.

So, Neville had gotten curious (naturally) and decided to try it out on the one person who would never expect anything. His new Slytherin friend.

At first, Neville hadn't been sure what to do. You were supposed to have a trigger word to start the dream, and another to end it, and while Neville had become particular to the word 'fuck', he'd decided that 'lunch' and 'love' would work just as well.

And oh goodness when Blaise had woken up...it had taken everything Neville had to keep from laughing at the horrified expression on the poor boy's face.

An expression that had yet to cease.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Neville asked Blaise for the tenth time (they'd both been secretly counting) since they'd left the castle.

"Fine," Blaise replied stiffly, staring straight ahead and looking quite pained.

"Really?" Neville asked, sounding skeptic. "Because we're almost in Hogsmeade right now, and we could've apparated, like, ten meters back."

If he hadn't known better, Neville might've thought that he'd seen Blaise blush. "R-Right. Er...do you want me to do it, or would you rather...?"

Neville couldn't help but grin a bit. "I think it might be safer if I apparate, today, Blaise. You're mind seems to be somewhere else this morning, and I would prefer it if mine stayed exactly where it is...if you catch my drift."

Blaise nodded and grabbed Neville's hand, and in a moment they were soaring quite uncomfortably to Diagon Alley.

They poppped into the Leaky Cauldron, both alive a thoroughly whole (Neville still wasn't quite confident with his apparating skills yet, so he checked himself over every time), and Blaise still managing to look completely out of it.

Neville wondered that maybe if he told Blaise the truth, the Slytherin would stop thinking about it. Because really, this was becoming ridiculous.

"Hey, Tom," Neville greeted the aged barkeeper brightly, who smiled toothlessly in return.

"And just what are two Hogwarts students doing away from Hogwarts grounds?" Tom asked them.

"Dark and evil things," Blaise told him before Neville could even open his mouth. He was sneering at Tom, which Neville was pretty sure no one had ever done before. "C'mon, Neville," Blaise added, grabbing the apologetic Gryffindor by the arm and hauling him out.

"Why don't you like Tom?" I asked as the door closed behind us and Blaise began tapping the third brick from the left of the trashbin.

"He creeps me out," Blaise replied shortly, not looking at Neville but instead the way the bricks moved to form an archway. "His head looks like a walnut. He doesn't have any teeth. The man is the epitome of old age, and I don't like it."

Neville couldn't help but snort in amusement. That answer was so _Blaise_. "Oh, what am I going to do with you?" He asked fondly, ruffling Blaise's dark silky hair and dodging the returning swat of annoyance.

"Murder me on my fortieth birthday," Blaise suggested in response. "Now can we hurry up with this? I didn't have breakfast, and I'm starving."

"Forty isn't old," Nevile exclaimed as he let them towards Flourish & Blotts. "How about Sixty? I'll kill you on your sixtieth birthday, will that work? Can you last twenty more years?"

Blaise gave him a small smile - the first all day, making Neville feel quite proud of himself. "I suppose if I must."

Neville nodded resolutely. "Good. That gives me an extra twenty years to talk you out of it."

"You think we'll still talk to each other when we're sixty?" Blaise asked as they ambled slowly down the almost empty street. He didn't sound skeptical, simply surprised.

Neville shrugged. To be honest, in the one month they'd spent together (and they'd spent a _lot_ of time together in that month, thanks to McGonagall), Blaise had become one of Neville's best friends. After they found the countercurse to the musical thing on the school, Neville had planned to continue the friendship. "Yeah."

And from the look on Blaise's face, he was planning on it too.

"Oh good, boys, you're here!" Mr. Blotts greeted as soon as they opened the door the book shop.

Neville was pretty sure that no one had ever been that happy to see him before.

"Er...hello, Mr. Blotts," he greeted, feeling a bit unsure. Blaise only nodded boredly.

"I've been thinking since you told me the nature of the curse, and I think I found something that will help." Mr. Blotts grabbed a three books from the nearest shelf and handed them to Neville, who was obviously the nicer of the two.

Neville glanced at the top book's cover skeptically. 'Understanding the Unforgivables'. "What does-"

"That makes sense, actually," Blaise said thoughtfully, cutting Neville off with the smoothness that only a Zabini could have. "It _is_ somewhat like the Impirius Curse. We can't stop singing once we start, as if someone else is controlling our mouths..."  
>"And Veritiserum as well," Neville agreed, continuing on the train of thought with zeal. "Because we're alway singing about something we're feeling, whether we want to or not."<p>

"If you wait a moment, I can find you a few books on that, as well," Mr. Blotts spoke up with a smile, and Blaise nodded.

"Yes, I think that would be best."  
>"Thanks a bunch, sir," Neville added with an excited smile. Maybe, just maybe, they could find the countercurse after all.<p>

"Goodie-two-shoes," Blaise muttered to him after Mr. Blott's had walked away.

"Douche bag," Neville replied, nudging him playfully in the side. The two of them shared a grin.

"Here you are, boys," Mr. Blotts exclaimed as he walked back to them with two more books in tow. "And if you need anything else, just send me an owl and I'll order it for you."

Neville took the two new tomes with the three others, thanked Mr. Blotts, and the two boys left with an air of excitement.

"Can we stop by Weasley Wizard Weezes while we're here?" Neville asked as Blaise shrunk the books and stuck them in Pansy's coinpurse.

"I doubt the Weasley is going to be there," Blaise pointed out as he shrunk one particularly large and heavy book with his wand. "He's probably at the store in Hogsmeade, stealing money from all the first years."

Because with George, anything was possible.

"I know," Neville said, shrugging, "but Harry wanted me to pick up a batch of Hangover potion for him and Malfoy, and this shop probably won't be as crowded." Which, to Neville, was just logical.

"If you want," Blaise murmured his assent, finally shrinking the last book and sticking the coinpurse in back in his pocket. He looked up at Neville and smiled.

Neville blushed, and he didn't know why. "Er, yeah, then...is everything good? I'm getting hungry."

"Because you didn't have breakfast either," Blaise pointed out reprovingly as the two began walking towards the largest shop in Diagon Alley. "Really, Neville, this lack of food is bad for my physique. Your's too, at that." Blaise poked Neville in the side. "You're positively _peaky_."

"You sound like Ron's mum," Neville told him quietly, his face going from pink to red. Really, this blushing thing was just becoming _absurd_!

"How insulting," Blaise said with a frown. "I've seen Weasley's mother. She shrieks like a banshee at the train station. _Every._ _Single._ _Time_."

"Mrs. Weasley is awesome, don't go putting her down," Neville said warningly as they entered Weasley Wizard Weezes.

"I agree," a mysterious voice said from above them, making Blaise let out a little shriek of surprise that had both Neville and the mysterious occupant giggling like school girls.

Neville looked up to see George Weasley staring down at them from the banister on the second floor. "What are you two doing in Diagon Alley?" George asked them between laughing fits. "Shouldn't you be in Hogsmeade with all of the other ickle students?"

"We're doing dark and evil things," Neville told George with a snigger, because Blaise seemed too shaken up to say it himself.

"Well then you've come to the right place!" George gave them both a toothy grin and slid down the banister on his bum, stopping just short of falling into them. "What can I do for you, kiddo?"

"We need hangover potion," Neville explained bashfully.

"Oho!" George exclaimed, "taking your adulthood to the fullest, are we, Mr. Longbottom? You realize that, eighteen or not, alcohol is still not allowed on Hogwarts Grounds, don't you?"  
>"It's not for us," Blaise finally spoke up, moving a bit closer to Neville as if expecting the Gryffindor to protect him from the creepy Weasley twin. "It's for Draco and Potter."<p>

George looked between the two, obviously surprised. "You're joking? Is Malfoy trying to prank him or something?"

"No," Neville sighed, leaning against the wall with a small shake of his head. "The two of them have been getting plastered together since the school year started."

"Oh really?" George asked, his surprise becoming even more evident. "Well, I suppose it makes sense. I don't think I'd be able to handle Malfoy if I was sober, too."

"They're getting it on behind our backs," Blaise sighed, crossing his arms and looking quite put-out. "Michael Corner saw them snogging the other day."

"George..." Neville began, hoping against hope that they could leave that particular conversation behind. Thinking of Harry and Draco Malfoy snogging did _not_ bring up good mental images. In fact, he was beginning to feel a bit sick. "What are _you_ doing here? Shouldn't you be in Hogsmeade...err...stealing money from First Years?"

"No," George replied flatly, his good humor disappearing almost immediately. Neville wondered if George was still avoiding everyone in his family, or if he'd somehow managed to offend the redhead. "Now really, you two couldn't have come down here only for Hangover Potion. For one thing, we sell it shop #2, and for another, McGonagall would never agree to that."  
>"Oh," Neville muttered, shrugging slightly, "we're on a secret detective mission." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blaise wince.<p>

"Full of dark and evil things?" George asked skeptically. Neville grinned.

"Maybe. Someone's cursed Hogwarts."

He watched as George paused and blinked rapidly in confusion. "Come again?"

"That's what she said..." Blaise murmured under his breath, making Neville let out a snort of amusement.

"There's a musical curse on Hogwarts. Which obviously wasn't there before," Neville explained, still smiling. "People will randomly begin singing and dancing and whatever else comes about. We think it has something to do with the Imperius curse. And perhaps Veritaserum is involved. We came to Diagon Alley to get some books from Mr. Blotts."

"Well..." George trailed off, still looking quite surprised, and perhaps even a little shaken. "Wait a second...that's a great idea!" He brightened considerably. "I wish me and..." he cleared his throat awkwardly, "I wish I'd thought of that," he finished a bit lamely, staring hard at the linoleum floor.

"Right," Neville agreed, feeling quite awkward himself. No one really talked about Fred since the final battle. Especially not in front of a Weasley. Most especially not in front of George. And George most especially seemed to avoid any mention of Fred. "Well...hangover potion."

"Yeah," George agreed quickly, motioning for them to follow him. "It's shitty, by the way, that the only customer I've had this morning isn't even going to be paying. I guess it's a good thing for Hogsmeade, huh?"

"Oh, Harry gave me some money for you," Neville told him, pulling out the little pouch of gold and silver that Harry had handed to him before they'd left.

"Harry doesn't pay here, and he knows it," George muttered darkly, glaring forward as if Harry might pop up at any minute. "I don't know _why_ he even tries anymore."

"Potter doesn't have to pay your ridiculous prices for things?" Blaise exclaimed, looking quite offended. "Does he get away with _everything_?"

"If it wasn't for Harry, this shop wouldn't even exist," George explained with a shrug. "So yes, I suppose so."

"No wonder Draco despised him for so long," Blaise mumbled under his breath, making Neville smile a bit. It was a cold day in hell when Blaise was jealous of anyone. Apparently the dead Death Eaters were getting a day off, then.

"Here you are," George said, grabbing a large potions bottle full of slushy blue liquid that Neville knew both smelled and tasted minty fresh. Not from experience of course. But he had an uncle who was a drunk. Actually, he had a few drunken uncles. And a couple of drunken aunts.

"Thanks a bunch, George," Neville smiled at him. "I'm getting tired of hearing the two of them moan about how they're dying were every morning."

"We all feel that way," Blaise added, rolling his eyes and sneering slightly. "We're also tired of them pretending to be surprised and uncomfortable every morning they wake up in the same bed. And how the two of them bicker constantly and yet always have to be around each other. And-"

"Yes," George cut him off, "we get it."

Blaise cleared his throat and glowered a bit.

"Anyways, we really should be going, mate," Neville said, clearing up even more awkwardness. "I'll tell Ron and Ginny you said 'hi'."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't actually," George replied pleasantly. "If you do, I'll have to deal with my mother."

"Right," Neville nodded resolutely. "We never saw you."

"Thanks, Nev," George said gratefully. "See you 'round."

"See you."

"OWMOTHERFUCKINGSHIT!" Neville shouted as he tripped on the way out of George's shop and stubbed his toe. George didn't say anything, just closed the door behind them.

Which left Blaise to visibly wince.

"Oh will you just stop it!" Neville snapped, hopping one foot and sniffling a bit in pain. "The bloody dream wasn't even real! And I don't remember anything in it that should freak you out! We walked a bit, I said fuck a few times, it didn't even last that long! So what is it that has you going mad all day?"

"How did you -"

"Because I made the dream, you idiot," Neville groaned, sniffling a bit more and leaning against the side of Weasley Wizard Weezes so that he wouldn't have to put pressure on his poor, abused toe. "It hurts so bad..."  
>"What do you mean <em>you<em> made the dream?" Blaise asked, staring hard at him and completely ignoring Neville's pain. "How do you _make_ a dream?"

"I mean that I saw this thing in one of the books in the library that could make someone have a dream that I created, and I tried it on you. You realize that it's your fault I'm hurt, right? An apology wouldn't be amiss."

Blaise opened his mouth...and promptly shut it again. This went on a for a few minutes before words came out. "You mean you pranked me? _You_? Neville Longbottom? Pranked _me_? Blaise Zabini?"

Neville shrugged irritably. "Sure, whatever. I think I broke my big toe. Maybe I should sit down."

"That is..." Blaise was staring at Neville like he'd never quite seen him before. "The most ballsy thing I think I've ever heard."

"Seriously," Neville said flatly, "can we please go sit down somewhere? Or maybe we should go to St. Mungo's? Because I think it's broken, and I don't want to have to walk all the way back up to the castle from Hogsmeade to see Madam Pomfrey, and-"

Neville was promptly cut off by something warm and pleasant pressing against his lips.

It took him a moment to realize that he was being kissed.

And it took another moment for him to realize that _Blaise_ was kissing him.

And it took a few more moments for him to process that _Blaise_ _Zabini_ - a _male_, a _Slytherin_ _male_ - was _kissing_ him.

And it took even longer for him to figure out what he was going to do about it. Did he kiss back? Or did he shove Blaise off of him and make them both endure a very awkward moment - possibly a very awkward rest-of-the-year.

On the one hand Blaise kissing him was actually quite nice, and would probably be even better if he stopped standing there like an idiot and actually participated. But on the other hand he'd never kissed another guy before. He'd never even considered it, actually. And he wasn't completely sure that he thought of Blaise like that.

And he didn't want to hurt Blaise's feelings, of course.

Hmm...this was becoming quite the predicament.

And why was Blaise even kissing him in the first place? It made absolutely no sense! Was he getting back at Neville for the whole 'pranking' (or whatever you wanted to call it) thing? Because if that's what it was, then it was working.

Neville was _very_ confused.

Before he could come to a decision, however, Blaise pulled back a bit. Just enough to where Neville couldn't feel his lips anymore, but could still feel the warm breath that was actually a bit erotic. "I'm thinking Fortescue's."

"What?" Still confused. And slightly dazed.

"Going to Fortescue's for lunch. And if your toe's still bothering you after we eat, I'll help you up to the hospital wing."

Toe? What was a toe?

"Um..."

"Sound good to you?"

How any bloke could go from kissing another bloke to talking about lunch was beyond Neville, but was (he felt) incredibly awesome.

Oh, fuck it.

Neville grabbed Blaise by the front of his robes and pulled him forward. He could be confused and awkward later.

* * *

><p>AN: Yes, that's right. Finally something exciting happened. Good on me. If you have any Christmas songs, please add them in your review =)


	11. Happy Holidays You Bastard

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: So I had to look up Christmas songs for this. That's right. Christmas songs. In May. The things I do for others...=).

Song: Happy Holidays You Bastard - Blink 182 - Album: Take Off Your Pants And Jacket

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11 - Happy Holidays You Bastard<strong>

Hogwarts was alive with Christmas songs. And not in the good way. It wasn't just Christmas songs of course. Because they didn't really get a chance to pick what they would burst into song with. But there were more Christmas songs than there'd been before.

Which was why Harry and Draco were, once again, sitting alone in their dormitory. It was one of the few times that they'd been in the room alone together without a couple of bottles of alcohol. For some reason, ever since Neville had returned with Hangover potion and Harry's money, the two of them hadn't abused any sorts of substances very often.

Of course, it had only been two months, and they'd still gotten drunk a couple of times. But it wasn't the same when they would wake up and not spend half the day feeling like they were going to die a horrible, painful, alcohol-induced death.

"Break's coming up soon," Harry said as they lay on Draco's bed, both of them staring boredly up at the ceiling. It was the first time either had talked in almost ten minutes. Harry had been busy listening to Sue Li and Padma Patil's rendition of 'Hallelujah Chorus'.

It really hadn't been all that bad, to be honest.

"Yup," Draco agreed sleepily, turning to his side to face Harry. Harry mirrored the motion, bringing his arm up to add more to the pillow.

"What're your plans?"

"Well I suppose I'm staying here," Draco answered dryly. "Seeing as I haven't got any other place to go at the moment. I haven't had a chance to go house hunting. I'm sure you understand. What about you? Staying with the Weasley's, I presume?"

"Nope," Harry replied, feeling quite proud of himself. "I've got my own place, now. Well, I've had it for a couple of years, actually. Sirius left it to me when he, er...fell." Suddenly he wasn't feeling too good. He'd be spending Christmas alone in the house of his dead godfather. Well, actually, he'd probably spend Christmas at the Burrow, because Mrs. Weasley would insist, but other than that... "Hey, I have an idea!"

Draco buried his face into Harry's pillow. "Oh no..." he muttered, his voice muffled by the offending object.

"You can stay with me!"

Draco sighed and peered out at Harry from the white cotton. "Even if you weren't asking me because of your ridiculous hero complex, do you really think we could last two weeks alone in the same house without killing each other? Because I most certainly don't."

"Oh c'mon!" Harry exclaimed brightly, "we spend time together all the time. Was that redundant?" he shook his head slightly to clear away the sudden thought. "Nevermind, I don't care. Anyway, I'm not asking because I have a hero complex! I'm asking because I don't want to spend the holidays alone, and I doubt you want to spend the holidays alone, so we can spend the holidays alone together!"

"No," Draco answered flatly, burrowing his face into the pillow once more.

"Yes," Harry decided. "We'll tell McGonagall ASAP. I'm sure she'll just be overjoyed that we're getting along and all that."

"No," Draco said again.

Harry just smiled brightly at him.

* * *

><p>"Good evening, Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Zabini," Professor McGonagall greeted as the two students entered her office.<p>

"'Evening Professor," Neville returned, grinning. "You wanted to see us?"

"Indeed. Have you found anything yet?"

Neville grimaced and Blaise looked incredibly annoyed. "No," they answered in unison. "But I think we're getting close," Neville added quickly. A large part of him was terrified that she'd tell them off and give the mission to Hermione instead. Because honestly, Hermione probably would've already found a way to get rid of the musical curse all by herself.

"Well then," McGonagall sighed, "I suppose I'll have to ask the two of you to stay here for the holidays. Of course, I can't force you to, but I think it would be more productive."

Spending two weeks, probably alone, with Blaise? Neville glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Blaise had already changed out of his robes and into his pajamas, putting on a shirt only after they'd been requested to see McGonagall in her office. His dark hair was a bit mussed, and his pouty pink lips were still a bit swollen from all of the time that they'd spent...er...studying.

"I haven't got anything better to do," Neville answered, returning his gaze to the headmistress and hoping he sounded nonchalant.

"Yeah," Blaise nodded coolly. "What he said."

McGonagall looked between the two for a moment. "Good," She said in a dismissing manner.

Blaise turned to leave, but Neville hesitated. "Um, Professor? Harry asked me to tell you to take Malfoy off the roster for the students staying here. He said that Malfoy's spending the holidays with him."

McGonagall raised one dark eyebrow in surprise. "Did he?"

"Yup," Neville nodded earnestly. "Apparently, um, they're going to be 'lonely together' or whatever."

McGonagall looked at him for another minute before, to the Eighth Year's surprise, shrugging. "Alright. Thank you for telling me, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville and Blaise, both thoroughly unsettled by McGonagall's shrug, practically ran out of the headmistress' office, eyes wide and mouths open.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Professor McGonagall chuckled.

* * *

><p>"You're doing what with who?" Ron asked Harry, a horrible sinking feeling appearing in his stomach.<p>

"Draco is spending Christmas at Grimmauld Place," Harry repeated brightly, looking quite chipper and excited for seven o'clock on a Saturday morning.

The Golden Trio was sitting in the middle of the mostly empty common room, and Ron was sure he might faint at any moment. "You're _joking_."

"Oh, Ronald," Hermione sighed, swatting him on the arm. "Don't act so surprised. We knew this was coming. We _knew_ this was coming," She repeated to Harry, who looked quite amused.

Ron grimaced as he rubbed his arm gingerly. This really was going too far. Honestly, did no one else notice how far the eighth years were falling?

Harry Potter, his best friend in the whole world, was spending the holidays with Draco Malfoy (code name: The Ferret). _Draco_ _Malfoy_ of all people! The same boy that had tormented them for years, almost got all of them killed at one point or another, allowed his psychotic aunt to torture Hermione, and hadn't even thanked Harry (or more importantly: Ron) for saving his ferrety life.

And that wasn't even the weirdest thing! Hell, that was almost tame to what else had been going on. At least Ron knew what Harry was _doing_ with Malfoy. They were getting drunk and talking about their woes and singing loudly at the most inopportune times, and unfortunately they were also probably having crazy man love on Ron's bed, because there was a strange smell on his sheets that had been there for days!

That was beside the point, however.

Neville was going to secret meetings with Blaise Zabini, which didn't make sense at all because Ron hadn't even known they'd noticed each other before this year. Hermione was looking more beautiful than usual (not that she wasn't always beautiful of course, she was just..._trying_ to be beautiful, this time. Like the Yule Ball all over again, if the Yule Ball was going on _every_ _day_.) and when asked she would, oddly enough, share a look with Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass.

The Greengrass sisters, by the way, kept popping up at random points to make gay jokes, which didn't make the slightest bit of sense to Ron.

And, worst of all, the one thing that made the littlest sense to Ron, less sense even than the fact that everyone was bursting into song, was the strangeness of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

They were cold to each other. Which had never happened before, to Ron's knowledge. Even after Quidditch games they were perfectly polite. The two houses were acting like...well, like Gryffindor's and Slytherin's _used_ to act. The day before, Ron had actually heard Hannah Abbot - _Hannah_ _Abbot_, the sweetest girl on the planet - call Padma Patil a dark-skinned whore. Which was both racist and mean-spirited, two things that Ron had been sure Hannah wasn't.

And of course there was Ron, stuck right in the middle of everything, confused and feeling very alone, and watching as Hermione told Harry how great it was that he and Malfoy were getting along.

Which wasn't great, by the way. It was disturbing. So, _so_ disturbing.

"Are you sure?" Ron finally asked, after a few minutes of silent horror. "About Malfoy, mate? In your house? Living with you? For two weeks?"

"It'll be fine, Ron," Harry told him, waving off Ron's worries with one flamboyant hand.

Which brought Ron to another point of confusion and loneliness. He'd always known that Harry was a bit different from the rest of them - besides the whole 'savior of the wizarding world' thing of course - but it'd take him a while to come to terms with the fact that his best friend was gay. Not that he had a problem with homosexuals - especially lesbians - but it was still kind of weird. Then again, maybe he would've come to terms with it a bit sooner if it hadn't been obvious that said best friend was totally falling in love with the enemy.

When he'd brought this up to Hermione, her response had set him straight. She was right - Ron preferred Malfoy to Ernie Macmillan any day.

"Do you think you'll survive it?" He couldn't help but ask lightly, hoping to not offend his fairy friend. Was it offensive to call Harry a fairy? It rhymed at least, and Harry loved poetry, so maybe it would be alright for Ron to call Harry a fairy.

In fact, it was actually kind of fun to say. Harry the Fairy, Harry the Fairy, Harry the Fai-

"Of course I'll survive it," Harry the Fairy replied as though it were obvious. How was Ron supposed to know that? "It's only breakfast. Are you coming or not?"

Wait, what?

"Huh?"

"Breakfast, Ron," Hermione repeated for Harry's sake. "You've been spaced out for almost twenty-minutes, muttering 'Harry the Fairy'. We're having breakfast? Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Ron answered, standing up slowly. As soon as he moved the room began to spin in a very interesting way. "I've just been feeling a bit off since Justin gave me those brownies. They were _really_ good though. I ate, like, ten of 'em."

He didn't see Harry and Hermione share a look of horror, nor did he hear Hermione whisper "I _knew_ Hufflepuff's were selling drugs!"

As soon as Harry mentioned breakfast, Ron was sold. Good ol' food.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Malfoy," a voice spoke behind him, making Draco jump about ten feet in the air as he spun around in the corridor...and saw McGonagall staring at him with one thin eyebrow raised in skepticism. Or perhaps it was amusement. As far as Draco knew, she only had one facial expression. "I'm glad I caught you alone," she told him as if he hadn't just squeaked like a little girl.<p>

Wait one blasted moment! This was the point where she murdered him in an empty classroom, wasn't it! He'd known the invitation to return to Hogwarts had been an evil plot to get him killed. He'd _known_ it!

Oh well, he didn't pay attention to assassination attempts anyways. They were beneath him.

"What's up, Professor?"

"You seem awfully chipper this morning," she pointed out, as if he weren't already aware. "And jumpy."

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "What can I say - assassination attempts are beneath me." He sighed immediately after. Of course she wouldn't get it.

"Come along," McGonagall said after a moment in which she simply stared blankly at him. "Wouldn't want you to be late for breakfast."

Damn. He'd kind of been looking forward to Saint Potter rescuing him from the evil headmistress. Ah well, one couldn't have everything.

"I was told that you wanted to stay with Potter for the holidays," McGonagall began after another silent moment in which they'd began the trek to the Great Hall once again.

"No," Draco snapped before he could think better of it, adding a quick 'headmistress' that had her quirking another eyebrow. "What I mean to say is that Potter's offer was kind, I suppose, but I don't think we could stand each other for two weeks, and he'll probably be wanting to visit the Weasley's, and I really need to get started on looking for a new place to live. And a job, come to think of it, so-"

"You're babbling," McGonagall pointed out, making Draco grimace slightly. He most certainly was _not_ babbling. He'd never babbled before in his _life_. And honestly, what kind of word _was_ that? _Babble_! Damn French! "Personally, I think it's a wonderful idea. Albus Dumbledore would've been delighted to see the two of you grow up and finally put you're little spat behind you."

Of course, and she had to throw the death of _Dumbledore_ in his face. Damn woman!

"I told his portrait, but it's not the same of course-"

"You're babbling," Draco told her, feeling quite victorious. Okay, so perhaps the French weren't so bad after all.

"Do I look like I would ever do any such thing?" McGonagall asked, looking pointedly serious and completely devoid of any babble she ever might've had in her.

"No, Headmistress."

"Smart answer. Now, I've already taken you off the roster, and it's much too late to put you back on, so I suppose you and Mr. Potter will just have to tough it out."

"But I don't want to," Draco said immediately, as if that actually mattered to her. Which he knew, deep down inside, that it didn't.

"Then you should have spoken up earlier," McGonagall replied flatly. "As I said, you will just have to - oh, not _again_!"

It took Draco a moment to understand what she was talking about, because his head was spinning (not the product of Justin Finch-Fletchley's brownies) from the horror. He really was going to spend the Christmas holidays with Potter. Harry Potter.

How many people would kill to be in his shoes...

No! That was irrelevant. He couldn't spend the holidays with Potter! They were already much too civil with each other as it was! He'd just have to run off and join the circus!

"_It's almost Christmas and I've only bought two fuckin' presents_"

Was that...Hannah Abbot? Draco wasn't sure, but it couldn't be, right? Because she was the most sickeningly sweet person _ever_.

"This is a nightmare," McGonagall groaned as she rushed off to beat him to the Great Hall. What a strange woman.

"_It's almost Christmas and I've only bought two fuckin' presents_"

Definitely Hannah Abbot. What a strange girl.

Draco rushed as well, just to see the look on her face when she finished her little song. Priceless.

"_And I hate, hate, hate your guts,_

_ I hate, hate, hate your guts,_

_ And I'll never talk to you again_,"

Ohh, everyone was watching, and she was obviously singing to one of the Patil twins (he couldn't tell which one, they were identical) who looked mortally offended. Well, it was only expected since Hannah was a racist.

"_Unless your dad will suck me off-_"

Wait, what? Did she really just say that?

"_I'll never talk to you again,_

_ Unless your mom will touch my cock_."

She was a tranny too? Wow, this was just getting better and better. Hannah Abbot was a _freak_. Not necessarily in the bad way or anything, more like she was freak_y_. Maybe she was addicted to sex. Oh, he couldn't wait to tell Potter!

"_I'll never talk to you again,_

_ Ejaculate into a sock,_

_ I'll never talk to you again_.

_I'll never talk to you again_."

"Ms. Abbot, please-" McGonagall began, but apparently 'Ms. Abbot' wasn't finished.

"_When it's Labor Day my grandpa will eat seven fucking hotdogs,_

_ When it's Labor day my grandpa will eat seven fucking hotdogs,_

_ And he'll shit, shit, shit, his pants,_

_ He's always fuckin' shitting his pants,_

_ And I'll never talk to you again_."

"I give up," McGonagall sighed, sitting down at the Gryffindor table and watching the proceedings with an air of neglect.

"_Unless your dad will suck me off,_

_ I'll never talk to you again,_

_ Unless your mom will touch my cock,_

_ I'll never talk to you again,_

_ Ejaculate into a sock,_

_ I'll never talk to you again._

_ I'll never talk to you again_."

The Hufflepuffs applauded, and Harry tapped Draco on the shoulder, looking sweaty and adorably confused. "What did I miss?"

"Blackmail. The best blackmail _ever_."

The unknown Patil twin smacked Hannah Abbot so hard that even Lucius Malfoy winced, and he wasn't even there.

* * *

><p>AN: So I had to change the lyrics a little bit to make it fit better. I probably butchered it, but I'm sure the members of Blink 182 would understand. Except for Tom, that rat bastard.


	12. It's Times Like These

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: No songs in this one either, because they aren't at Hogwarts. Well, some of them are at Hogwarts, but we're not talking to those bastards.

Song: Times Like These - Foo Fighters - Album: One By One

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12 - It's Times Like These...<strong>

"So," Harry began, gesturing wildly around the living room, "this is about it. Want a tour?"

He asked, but he didn't really plan on giving Draco a choice.

Draco shrugged non-commitedly. "If you must."

Harry took this as a 'yes, Harry, of course I would love a tour of your very wonderful home, thank you for inviting me to stay with you', because he knew that Draco would never actually say those words even if he felt them.

"Wonderful," Harry said brightly, taking Draco by the arm and leading him about the house. "Kitchen, basement, bathroom number one, my room, bathroom number two, Sirius' old room, bathroom number four, six other random rooms, bathroom number five, drawing room - wait a damn moment!"

He'd known something was strange as soon as he'd walked in. For one thing, he hadn't left the house as clean as it currently was. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem, but Kreacher had died months ago, so it should've been all dusty and such.

His first thought was that blasted Mundungus Fletcher, back to steal more of the Black family heirlooms. "That rat bastard!" he swore, letting Draco go and scowling around the drawing room, just waiting for 'Dung to step out looking all fakely apologetic and saying some random bullshit that Harry would never believe.

"Is something the matter?" Draco asked, sounding slightly amused.

"Someone's been in here!" Harry told him furiously, grabbing Draco one more and stomping out of the room with his knew house guest in tow. "Where are you, you rat bastard!" He yelled, loud enough for all of England to hear him. "If I ever find you, Mundungus Fletcher, I swear to fucking Merlin that you'll regret it!"

"Is master wanting some tea?" A small, squeaky voice asked from somewhere near the door to the kitchen.

Harry paused, a bit confused because that didn't sound like Draco at all. Or 'Dung ,for that matter. Cautiously, Harry turned around...and blinked in surprise.

There was a house elf in Grimmauld Place. A live one, more importantly. "Er...who are you?" He asked as politely as he could through the copious amounts of confusion taking over his brain.

"Binky, Sir," the house-elf said, bowing so lowly that his long nose touched the ground. The movement reminded Harry fondly of Dobby, who'd done the exact same thing upon meeting. "I's is Kreacher's daughter, sir."

Kreachers...daughter? It took a minute for Binky's words to sink and, and when they did Harry's nose scrunched up in disgust. "You mean Kreacher..._reproduced_?"

"Even house-elves can have fun, Potter," Draco told him with a well placed smirk that made Harry blanch in disgust.

"Ew!"

"Since Kreacher has passed," Binky continued as if Harry hadn't spoken, "it is Binky's job to take Kreachers place as head elf at the Noble House of Black!"

Harry watched as Draco's eyes widened considerably. "Black? You're living in the Black house?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a shrug. "I inherited it."

Draco was beginning to look a bit faint. "How? It should've been Narcissa to get the house...she's been going on and on for years about how someone stole her property..."

"Sirius Black was my godfather," Harry reminded him with a shoulder bump. "Which you already knew. And when he...er...passed...he put it in his will that I get the house and his money. I didn't really want either, of course, because I've already got money, and this house isn't exactly full of fond memories...but it seemed disrespectful not do what he wanted for me."

Harry didn't think Draco was paying attention to him much. The blonde was too busy staring around the house in thinly-veiled shock.

"I don't need a house-elf, Binky," Harry continued, looking at the house-elf and trying to be as nice as possible about it. "I mean, it's not like I don't appreciate the offer, but-"

"Yous most certainly needs a house-elf, Sir," Binky told him, shaking her head and making her large ears flap about in the process. "Binky has been here only for two weeks, and she is seeing more filth than Binky has ever seen before! Mr. Harry Potter, sir, needs a house-elf, and Binky is taking the job!"

"I like her," Draco said with a fond grin for Binky. "Only known you for two minutes, and already she's bossing you around like a mother!"

Binky only stared at them. "Would Master and his guest like tea?"

"I would love some tea, Binky, thank you," Draco told her graciously, and she nodded and bounced off to the kitchen.

"I'll never get any peace," Harry sighed, taking a seat on top of a large wooden dresser.

Draco scoffed. "Of course not - You're Harry Potter."

Harry nodded glumly.

"So," Draco continued after a moment of silence, "where am I sleeping?"

Harry bit his lip. To be honest, he hadn't really thought about that. They'd been sleeping in the same bed so much lately, that he'd just assumed that that would continue once they'd gotten to Grimmauld place. But of course Draco would want his own room.

"Take your pick," Harry finally said, causing Draco to smile at him. That brightened Harry's mood considerably - Draco didn't give genuine smiles very often.

* * *

><p>"What are you up to?" Draco asked a few hours later. After tea, he'd excused himself and had stayed holed up in the room next to Harry's, while Harry sat in the living room and watched the telly.<p>

"Watching a Ninja Warrior marathon," he said, looking up at Draco with a grin and patting the empty seat on the couch next to him.

"A what?" Draco asked, moving to sit beside Harry. "What in Merlin's name is that?" He continued almost immediately, pointing to the television.

And so Harry explained all about electricity, and T.V.'s, and Ninja Warrior, and an hour later Draco was beginning to understand.

"But _why_?" Draco asked once again, confusion written on his face. This was one of the difficult points in the explanation. Harry couldn't really explain _why_ a bunch of people got together and went through a crazy obstacle course for absolutely nothing more than a title that few people would ever actually use.

"Just watch it," Harry said for the hundredth time, gesturing wildly to the screen. "You'll understand!"

"Why can't we watch something else?" Draco whined (because Harry had been stupid enough to explain channels to him). The answer to his question was simple: because Harry enjoyed watching a bunch of sexy half-naked men run around getting all sweaty. "Because I like this show," Harry replied after a moment of silence. "And you'd probably like it too if you could get your head out of your ass and just watch it."

Draco huffed and crossed his arms, but didn't outwardly respond.

Half an hour later, his head was cocked to the side, his eyes were wide, and every time someone fell off the course, he would yell 'no!' as if they could hear his disappointment.

Harry felt very accomplished with himself.

* * *

><p>Draco was startled awake by the sound of someone tapping on glass. Well, more accurately <em>something<em> tapping on glass. He sighed sleepily, ignored the crick in his neck and the sound of cheers on the fellytision.

It was, upon further inspection, a great screech owl tapping on the window, a letter tied 'round it's leg.

Draco sighed again and slowly sat up, glancing at where Harry was continuing to watch the fellytision with a dumb expression on his face.

"Morning," Harry said in a far away voice, not looking at him. On the glass screen, one of the fit men was waving a wet shirt about his head and grinning broadly. Draco rolled his eyes.

The taps became louder.

"What time is it?" Draco asked as he got to his feet, raising his arms around his head and yawning silently.

"Almost time for dinner," Harry told him, finally glancing up from the glass screen when the fit man disappeared to give him a smile. "You were snoring," he added, causing Draco to blush.

He was Draco Malfoy, and Malfoy's didn't snore. Even disowned ones.

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh," Harry argued, causing Draco to bite back a smile as he opened the window and untied the letter from the owl's leg.

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-_huh_!"

"Malfoy's don't snore," Draco told him as he slowly unraveled the letter and allowed the owl to nip fondly on his finger.

"Well, Malfoy or not, you snored," Harry said smugly, causing Draco to glance up from the parchment and glare at him.

"I don't believe you."

Harry replied with something, but Draco didn't hear it. There was an odd buzzing sound in his ears, and he had a feeling that it had to do with the signature at the bottom of the parchment.

_Narcissa D. Malfoy_

Draco jumped when he felt something touch his arm. He looked up, and saw Harry a lot closer than he'd been seconds before. "Are you alright, Draco?"

How had he gotten so close so fast? And why did he have to look all fucking _concerned_?

"I'm fine," Draco snapped, being more rude than he intended, and took a quick step away. "I just..."

"Is someone threatening you by mail?" Harry asked, sounding more upset than concerned right then. "Tell me who it is, I'll give them a what-for-"

"It's Narcissa," Draco cut him off, his tone devoid of any emotion that usually reared up when he spoke her name. It was still strange not calling her 'mother'.

Harry, without a shadow of a doubt, looked surprised. And Draco couldn't blame him. He'd only gotten one letter from her since he'd been disowned, and it had been as vague and un-familial as humanly possible. "What does it say?" Harry finally asked, causing Draco to scoff.

"Well I haven't read it yet, have I!"

"Well read it then!" Harry replied, bumping Draco's shoulder lightly with his.

Draco, while loathe to take orders from anyone, obediently read the letter. In fact, he did one better; he read it _out_ _loud_.

_My dearest Draco,_

_ I hope this letter finds you well. I know you must be surprised to hear from me, but I couldn't stand to keep away from you any longer. _

_ I want you to know that I love you, and miss you everyday, and that I'm sorry it's come to this. Even though your father and I have officially disowned you, you are still our son in our hearts, as we hope that we are still your mother and father._

_ The reason for this letter is not so that I can reassure you of our devotion, but rather for something more secret. I was hoping that you might find time to visit the Manor during your Christmas holidays. Of course, I understand if you are too busy, or if you simply don't want to. I won't blame you for being angry with us, Draco, me especially._

_ If you can - and would like to - make it for Christmas, please send your answer back with Pollox (he's our new owl, and was bought specifically to send correspond with you) and I'll wait for your arrival._

_I love you so very much, Draco,_

_ Narcissa D. Malfoy_

"So?" Harry asked as soon as Draco finished the letter. "What are you going to do?"

This hadn't been what Draco had expected. Not from his mother, and not from Harry either. A 'Happy Christmas' card from Narcissa would have made sense, because she was right - disowned or not, he was still her son by birth, and she was still his mother. And Harry...he'd expected Harry to throw a fit and yell about how horrible they'd been to Draco, and how Draco deserved better, and what not, in a normal Harry Potter fashion.

None of which he'd said. As of yet.

He was going to spend Christmas with his mother, that much was obvious. He had to, after that letter, if he wanted any sort of relationship with his parents at all.

But he really didn't want to. It would be awkward, and painful, and they'd spend the entire day talking about nothing all the while wondering if it was the last time that they'd ever see each other.

There was a way that it might not be awkward, though. Or painful. In fact...it might just make it the most interesting Christmas.

"I want to go," Draco told him after a moment of silent contemplation. "But on one condition."

Harry almost looked amused. "And what's that?"  
>"You're coming with me."<br>Any amusement Harry may have had seemed to fly out the window at Draco's words. In fact, he could actually see it melt off Harry's face.

"You want me to spend Christmas with you and your mother? Are you mad?"

"I don't want to go alone," Draco admitted, "and your the only person I trust enough not to screw everything up." Which wasn't actually true. Draco knew that if asked, Pansy would agree, Blaise would agree, Theo would agree...and he could trust all of them not to mess things up royally for him.

But Harry would make it interesting. And Draco kind of wanted to get him back for making him stay at Harry's home for two weeks.

Harry seemed to be scrutinizing Draco's every slight movement as though waiting for him to break out in a grin and go 'ha! Just fuckin' with you!'

Which was tempting.

"If I have to," Harry finally said with a sigh, "But only if you go to the Weasley's with me for Christmas, too."

He did drive a hard bargain.

"But my mother wanted me to spend Christmas with her."

"Why don't you spend Christmas Eve with her?" Harry proposed. "I'm sure she'll understand."

Draco considered his proposal very seriously. On the one hand, he really didn't want to spend Christmas with the Weasleys. But they seemed to be the only family Harry had, and despite what people might say about him, Draco wasn't completely heartless. And if Draco sent back a letter saying he could only spend Christmas Eve with his mother, then he wouldn't sound too eager, which was a plus.

"Deal," Draco agreed, holding out his hand. Harry shook it firmly.

"Dinner is served, Masters," Binky spoke up from behind them, and that was that.

Draco scribbled a quick note on a new piece of parchment and sent it off, and then got to spend a lovely dinner with the object of his affections.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, spending a couple of weeks with Harry. Alone.

* * *

><p>"Do I look okay?" Harry asked Draco, feeling more self-conscious than he ever had before.<p>

"Quite handsome," Draco promised. Harry couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but decided to go with it anyways. If Draco really thought he looked bad, then he would've made Harry change.

He assumed.

After all, they were going to see Draco's mother. Surely he would want Harry to make a good impression on her.

"If only we could tame that hair of yours," Draco added, sending Harry's black locks a distasteful look.

Harry only shrugged unapologetically. "Un-tamable, I'm afraid."

Draco sighed forlornly. "Ah, well. Nothing for it then - are you ready?"

"No," Harry admitted, even as he led the way from his bedroom and into the hall. "You can do side-along apparation, right?" Draco rolled his eyes, and Harry took that as a yes.

Within five minutes they'd landed with a soft 'pop' in front of the Malfoy Manor's front gate, and Harry attempted to swallow down his nerves.

Admittedly it might've had something to do with the fact that the last time Harry had been to Malfoy Manor, loads of awful stuff had happened. But mostly he was just scared of Draco's mother.

She was a scary lady.

"Remember to be polite," Draco told him as they began the long trek up to the manor. "I know it's difficult for you, but try anyways. And try not to bring up any awkward topics, because this is going to be awkward enough as it is. And -"

"Draco," Harry cut him off, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Stop worrying. Everything will be fine."

It was nice to know that Draco was even more nervous than he was. Empowering, even.

"Of course it will," Draco said confidently. Still, when their fingers brushed, Harry could feel Draco's hands shaking. Without even thinking, Harry grabbed Draco's hand with his, and the blonde seemed to loosen his tense posture slightly.

They stayed that way, side by side, hand in hand, until they made it to the front door.

* * *

><p>AN: The next chapter is still going to be the holidays, so don't be surprised when their not singing again. Anyways, review if you'd like, and if for some reason you've never heard 'times like these' then you should definitely check it out. But seriously, if you haven't, there's something wrong with your musical palate.


	13. Conspiracy Against Me

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: As I said in the last chapter, this is continuing into the holidays, so no songs here, I'm afraid.

Song: Conspiracy - Paramore - All We Know Is Falling

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13 - This Conspiracy Against Me<strong>

"Draco," Mrs. Malfoy greeted with a gasp, pulling Draco into what looked like a bone-crushing hug that could've given Mrs. Weasley a run for her money. "It's so wonderful to see you!"

"Mum!" Draco immediately whined, glancing at Harry in embarrassment and trying to get his mother off.

Harry just stood back and watched, trying not to laugh at Draco's expression. That alone was worth the walk up there.

After a couple of minutes, Mrs. Malfoy let go, and turned her attention to Harry. "Mr. Potter," she greeted lightly. Harry tried to stop smiling, just in case she found it offensive.

"Mrs. Malfoy. I hope you've been well?"  
>"Quite," Mrs. Malfoy agreed stiffly. "And yourself?"<p>

"Very well, thank you."

"Have you been keeping my son out of trouble?"

Was he supposed to?

Draco gave a snort of derision. "Yeah, right. Potter can't even keep himself out of trouble, let alone anyone else."

"I'm not your bloody mother, now am I?" Of course he'd gone and done that stupid thing where he spoke before thinking it through again, and Draco's bloody mother gave Harry a decidedly cold stare.

Which Draco mirrored exceptionally well.

Shit.

"Er...sorry for that, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and blushing furiously.

"Please come inside, both of you," Mrs. Malfoy said after a another moment of simply staring coldly at Harry.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, and followed the two Malfoy's inside the Manor.

He briefly, if a bit stupidly, wondered whether or not this was the part where they locked him in the dungeon.

Old habits died hard, he supposed.

And so began the slaughter of Harry James Potter. For almost five hours, Harry said stupid, sometimes rude, and very unfortunate things that had Draco glaring at him constantly.

After the first few times, Harry had tried his very best to stop talking in general, but Mrs. Malfoy seemed content to make sure he was a part of the conversation. Which didn't bode well for Harry, but Mrs. Malfoy looked oddly satisfied with the way things were going.

The worst part of the afternoon was when they were having lunch. Harry had, apparently, picked up the wrong fork to eat his salad with, and Draco had kicked him so hard in the shin that Harry'd yelled just about every swear word he could think of.

Mrs. Malfoy had given him a cool look, with a bit of a twinkle in her eye, and asked how he'd liked the dressing. Apparently it had been imported from French-Canadia.

By the time Draco had mentioned leaving, Harry had decided that spending a day at Malfoy Manor was worse than fighting Voldemort. At least Voldemort's intentions had been clear. Simple even. Kill Harry Potter, no more instruction needed. But Mrs. Malfoy was the epitome of Slytherin pure-blood upbringing, and Harry didn't know what the hell she wanted from him.

"It was lovely to see you again, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry managed to get out as the three of them stood by the front door. "Tell you're husband I said 'hello'."

Mrs. Malfoy raised one blonde eyebrow, making Harry forcibly resist the urge to smack himself. "I'll be sure to do that, Mr. Potter."

"Do you mind going on without me?" Draco asked Harry after Mrs. Malfoy had closed the door behind them, and they were standing on the front steps. "There's something I think my mother and I need to discuss privately."

Harry knew he should've been at least a little curious as to what, exactly, they needed to talk about alone. After all, Mrs. Malfoy had seen fit to mention all sorts of strange things that Harry hadn't wanted to know. Like how Draco had wet the bed until he was seven. Which, while amusing, probably wasn't that uncommon.

Harry wasn't curious, though. He was so excited to finally get away, he would've agreed to just about anything.

"Sure!" He exclaimed, already backing away. "See you in a bit."

Draco rolled his eyes and waved Harry off. "You're ridiculous."

And that was perfectly okay with Harry.

"There you are!"

Harry jumped in surprise as soon as he apparated into his living room. There was Ron, sitting comfortably on his couch with 'Days of Our Lives' on the telly.

"How long have you been here?" Harry asked, sitting down heavily beside his red-headed companion.

Ron shrugged comfortably. "Hour or so, maybe. Need you to do me a favor."

Good ol' Ron. Straight and to the point as always.

"What favor, exactly?"

"George," Ron explained immediately. Harry knew exactly what that meant. "He owled this morning to say he wasn't coming tomorrow. Mum's going mad, saying that he never talks to her anymore. Was wondering if maybe you'd pop by and try to change his mind. Doubt he'll listen to the rest of us."

"I'll do what I can," Harry promised, getting back to his feet. It might take a while, after all.

Ron mimicked the movement, clapping a hand on Harry's back. "Thanks, mate. I owe you one."

"You owe me several," Harry disagreed jokingly, causing Ron to stick out his tongue.

"George?" Harry called out as soon as he entered the eerily empty shop. It just didn't look right without loads of people milling about, setting off the jokes and making complete asses out of themselves. "G-George?"

"Can I help you?" An eerie voice said from behind Harry, making him shriek in surprise and spin around.

There was George, sniggering slightly. "Get's better every time!"

Harry was clutching his chest, gasping. "What...the hell...George?"

"Seriously, Harry, did you need something? Or did you just miss my beautiful face." He winked in a way that was not unlike Gildory Lockhart's trademark, and puckered up his lips like a fish. Which also kind of made him look like Gildory Lockhart.

"Dinner," Harry finally said when he'd calmed down from the near heart-attack. "At the Burrow. Ron says your skipping out."  
>George's good mood seemed to fade in the blink of the eye, and he was Glowering at the innocent Boy-Who-Totally-Murdered-You-Know-Who-Twice. "So you've been sent to recruit me, have you?"<p>

"Oh, c'mon, George," Harry all but whined, throwing an arm around the older boy's shoulders. "You're the only entertainment I've got to look forward to! Don't take that away from me!"  
>George stared at him for a moment before responding. "Is Malfoy going to be with you?"<p>

Harry wondered exactly how George knew about Draco, but then remembered that he was talking to George Fucking Weasley, who probably had ears all over Hogwarts. The better to gossip with, and all that. "Yeah. Is that a problem?"

Okay, so maybe he was a bit more defensive than he'd intended.

"If I go," George began after another minute of silent contemplation, "I want access to all teasing rights regarding you and Malfoy, as well as the full story on how the two of you got together."  
>"We're not together!" Harry exclaimed immediately, backing away from the ginger as if he'd just threatened to bite him.<p>

"That's not what Neville said," George replied, smirking triumphantly. "And sorry Harry, but I'm inclined to believe Neville over you. His face is more honest."

"When did you see Neville?" Harry asked, all the while wondering how quickly he could curse Neville before Hermione ripped him a new asshole.

"Oh, a bit ago," George said vaguely, waving off the question with a slightly feminine wave of his hand. "Now come on, Golden Boy - deal or no deal?"

Harry - who watched muggle television whenever he could - was suddenly caught up in the image of a bald George talking to some masked man on a telephone while a large amount of beautiful women stood with suitcases behind them.

"Deal," he said after a moment, the imaginary crowd booing loudly at him. "But don't be too hard on Draco - he's been having a tough time, and he'll never let me hear the end of it if you ruin his Christmas."

George smiled mischievously.

"If my eleven-year-old self could see me right now, he'd slap me silly," Draco told Harry with a small sigh.

Draco's return to Grimmauld Place had started out innocently enough. He'd yelled at Harry for about an hour, after which Binky had appeared, asking if they wanted tea. Over said tea, Harry had explained that George may not be the nicest person during Christmas at the Burrow, and that if he were to say anything rude, Draco should just let it go because he's having a tough time. Soon after, they'd bid each other good night and went into their rooms.

_ Separate_ rooms.

Harry had woken up two hours later to Draco crawling into bed with him, mumbling about explosions, man-eating snakes, and shirt-less pink-haired ninja's.

Admittedly, Harry had felt a little victorious.

There they found themselves the next morning, curled up into each other on Harry's small bed, Draco practically laying on top of the raven-haired boy.

"You don't think you could take on your eleven-year-old self?" Harry asked through a yawn, causing Draco to wince.

"Morning breathe," He grimaced, moving his face until it was in the crook of Harry's neck, rather than right in front of his mouth.

"I'm being serious," Harry exclaimed, latching onto the idea with zeal. "I mean, if my eleven-year-old self came up and tried to punch me in the balls, I'd kick my ass! From what I remember, you were a short, skinny little thing, so surely you could take yourself in a fight."

"It's too early in the morning for this conversation," Draco said, his words muffled by Harry's skin. "And so were you, short bastard."

Harry tried not to blush. "You started it," he pointed out instead. "And you're totes squishing me."  
>He felt Draco tense, and then push himself up onto his elbows, staring at Harry incredulously. "<em>What<em> did you just say?"

"I said you're fucking _squishing_ me," Harry pouted, even though Draco wasn't really squishing him anymore.

"No," Draco mumbled, shaking his head slightly. "You said 'totes'! What kind of grown man says 'totes'? It's not even a good idea when _tweens_ say it!"  
>Harry was most definitely blushing now. "Shut up, you lunatic," he mumbled embarrassedly before shoving Draco off of him. To both boys' surprise, Draco completely missed the bed and fell straight onto the floor. He stared up at the ceiling, shocked, while Harry stared down at him, horrified. Waiting for the explosion that was sure to happen.<p>

"...Ow."

Harry jumped up, scurrying ungracefully off of the bed and falling down next to Draco, looking frantic. "Oh my god! Oh my god! Are you okay? Is anything broken? Hold on, don't move, I'll get Hermione!"

Before Draco could even open his mouth and snap that he was fine, _moron_, Harry had hurried to his feet and ran out of the room. Draco could hear him yelling at what he assumed was either Granger or a Weasley.

Sighing, Draco gingerly sat up and got to his feet, following Harry at a leisurely pace. Sometimes he wished everything could go back to the way it used to be, so that he could find Harry's worry over his health stupid, rather than adorable.

Because it was adorable. A bit. Maybe.

"I told you not to move," Harry whined as Hermione Granger appeared through the fire.

"Whats the emergan - oh, Malfoy, you're okay!" She was looking the blonde over, grabbing him and twisting his appendages around in ways that they weren't meant to twist.

Draco glared sullenly at the wall.

"The way Harry was going on about it, you'd think you had broken your spine or something," Granger was telling him in her squeaky high-pitched voice. "He worries over the silliest things sometimes."

"I'm right here!" Harry yelled, sounding offended.

Draco decided to play along. "I completely agree," he told Granger with a forlorn sigh. "The other day he tripped me-"  
>"I didn't trip you!"<br>"-and then tried to carry me to the hospital wing, never mind that I was perfectly capable of walking myself. Really, it was just a bruise."  
>"You're just clumsy! I wasn't even <em>near<em> you!"

"He's always been like that," Granger told Draco with a small, apologetic smile. "Ever since I can remember. So worried about everyone else but he has no sense of self-preservation at all."

"Stop ganging up on me!"  
>"I've noticed," Draco muttered darkly, crossing his arms over his bare chest as Granger flung his head to the side in an attempt to check his neck. "You would think, now that the war's over and all, that he'd at least try to keep himself alive. I swear, he's putting himself into dangerous situations on purpose now."<br>"I do not! Stop ignoring me!"

"Are you talking about the Quidditch thing?" Granger asked, causing Draco to nod.

"What Quidditch thing? I haven't done any Quidditch thing!"  
>"He's hellbent on doing the stupidest things on a broom," she said, rolling her eyes as she flung Draco's head the other way. "I think it's the only time he feels comfortable showing off."<br>"Since you two are so chummy now, I guess I'm not needed."

"I don't know," Draco said skeptically, "He sings a lot. That's showing off. Kind of."

" If you'll both kindly excuse me, I believe there's another marathon of 'Ninja Warrior' on television."

"Well, yes," Granger agreed. "But none of us really get a choice. Harry does do a pretty good falsetto, though, no doubt."

"You're welcome to join me when you get your heads out of your arses."

They watched as Harry stalked out of the room. Draco tried not to smile. Granger giggled.

"You should probably get back to him before he has a tantrum," she said, grinning widely. Draco nodded. "See you two at dinner."

To Draco's extreme surprise, Granger wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug before throwing flood powder into the fire and exiting dramatically.

Draco walked into the living room, feeling a bit dumbfounded. "She hugged me," he told Harry, wondering if maybe they were in the twilight zone. Because he'd watched that on the fellytision when Harry had been out the night before.

Harry didn't reply, glaring angrily at the fellytision and the half-naked ninja's that appeared on it.

Back at the Burrow, Hermione stalked up the stairs, feeling disappointed. Ron was laying on their bed, still half asleep and staring at the ceiling with a dazed expression on his face.

"So, how'd it go?" He asked her as she got back into the bed with him. "Malfoy still alive?"  
>Hermione huffed in annoyance. "Oh, he's still alive alright. And hickey-free."<br>Ron smiled triumphantly. "Told you so."

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry it's taken me so long, but you know how it is. busy busy busy and all that. Anyways, review if you've got something to say (bitchy or otherwise, I can take it) or if you have a song request. I swear I will put the songs you want in there, I just have to be able to fit them in there without messing up the story line.


	14. Hallelujah

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: And now for the moment you've all been waiting for...

Song: Hallelujah - I don't know.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14 - Halleljuah!<strong>

"And then she told me that the earfellytones were made of plastic!" Mr. Weasley roared - the product of too much firewhiskey Draco assumed - as he and Harry gave weak chuckles that Mr. Weasley was obviously expecting.

To be honest, Draco wasn't sure he could take much more of the man. Admittedly, Arthur Weasley hadn't been his favorite person even before he got to know him, and now that he _was_ getting to know Mr. Weasley...well he talked about muggle appliances an awful lot.

Mr. Weasley clapped Draco's shoulder in what he figured was supposed to be a manly fashion, though all it resulted in was Harry having to steady him when he stumbled forward.  
>"Harry, dear, would you and Draco give me a hand in here?" Mrs. Weasley called from the incredibly odd house.<p>

"Sure thing, Mrs. Weasley!" Draco called back before Harry could even open his mouth, feeling relief flood through him.

Mrs. Weasley really wasn't all that bad. She'd been awfully nice to Draco since he'd arrived, even smacking George over the head when he said something about the blonde that was _very_ rude.

He'd take her over her husband any day, even if that did mean doing something productive.

Draco grabbed Harry by the wrist, practically dragging him towards the house while Harry gave Mr. Weasley an apologetic smile.

Now he couldn't be sure, but Draco thought he saw Mr. Weasley wink at Harry in return. Which would've explained why Harry's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

But why would he have winked? Even drunk, that made absolutely no sense.

"Oh, thank you, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said upon seeing the two teenage entering the kitchen. "The rest of the boys are de-gnoming the garden, and Ginny and Hermione are doing Merlin-knows-what..." she looked flustered, her bright orange hair in a disarray and her face almost as red. "Could you set up the table, Harry, I'm afraid I don't have enough hands."

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said immediately, giving her a side hug which she easily returned before going to the stacks of plates on the counter. Draco went to help, only to be stopped by Mrs. Weasley.

"No, no, Draco dear, you just sit down."

"But-" Draco began, feeling a tad awkward when she literally sat him down on the nearest chair and patted his head like a dog.

"It's quite alright," Mrs. Weasley said, waving off his unvoiced protests. "You're a guest, and you're so skinny - those Hogwarts elves already have so many people to feed, sometimes they don't quite get everyone."  
>"Don't argue," Harry told Draco quietly as he passed by with a second set of plates. "Does no good - trust me."<p>

Draco sat there in mostly silence as Mrs. Weasley brought him a broomload of meat pies and sausage, speaking only to thank her perfusely as he tried to not eat without her noticing.

After Harry's forth trip, Draco stopped him with a hand on his forearm. "You _do_ realize you're a wizard, right, Potter?" He tried to keep the snideness in his voice to a minimum since Mrs. Weasley was right there, and he didn't want her getting angry at him.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course I do, _Malfoy_, but we stopped using magic to move anything breakable or sharp ever since F-George almost stabbed Sirius in the face that one time."  
>"Too right," Mrs. Weasley agreed, not seeming to notice Harry's near slip.<p>

"Well considering Sirius isn't in the area, I highly doubt you can stab him in the face," Draco pointed out. He thought he was being reasonable - because it was true after all - but Harry glared at him.

"Shut up, you fuckin' twat!" He snapped, crossing his arms and staring Draco down.

"What?" Draco asked, affronted. "It's true, isn't it?"

"But you didn't have to fucking say it!" Harry exclaimed, sounding more than a little exasperated. "Look, I know you were born without the sympathy gene, Draco, but really, I've got to start teaching you the fucking basics!"

"Harry James Potter," Mrs. Weasley said, and they both looked over to see her dark and angry expression. "What did I tell you and Ron about using words like that in this house?"  
>Harry's glare turned into more of a sullen pout. "Don't do it in the kitchen," he mumbled with an immature huff, stomping out of the kitchen and waiting until the door was almost closed behind him before yelling "You fucking meanie-head!" at Draco.<p>

"'Meanie-head'," Draco repeated slowly, rolling his eyes. "I didn't realize anyone above the age of six said that."

Mrs. Weasley shrugged.

* * *

><p>"Harry," Ron gasped after running over to Draco and Harry twenty minutes later. "Harry, mate, you have to come see this - it's an army!"<p>

He grabbed Harry's arm and started pulling, causing Harry to grab Draco's wrist and pull him in response, until they were a band of fairies skipping towards the garden.

"What on Earth do you mean 'an army'?" Draco asked Ron, looking as confused as Harry felt.

"An army!" Ron yelled, pulling them faster. "It's mad!"

"Oh no, they've got Charlie!" Bill shouted from twenty yards away, causing them to run faster.

"I've got him!" George exclaimed, grunting. "I've got-"  
>"George!" Ginny squealed, sounding horrified.<p>

They soon found out what the commotion was.

An army - just as Ron had said - of garden gnomes were ganging up on the majority of the Weasley children.

"Take my hand, Gin!" George said, on the ground as a hundred gnomes jumped on top of him, yelling nonsense in their squeaky voices. "If we go out, we'll go out together!"

"Oh, thanks a bunch, George," Charlie grumbled from beside him, swatting off a few gnomes and struggling to get up. "See if I ever help you!"

"You four are ridiculous," Percy sighed, a few feet away from the mayhem. "Why don't you just use magic, like normal people."  
>"They took my wand!" Charlie snapped, glaring up at his little brother. "Or were you too busy worrying about your cuticles to notice?"<p>

"You work with dragons on a regular basis, Charles," Percy said, sounding bored and condescending all at once, "surely you can handle a few garden gnomes."  
>"Either fuck off or help, you useless twat!" Ginny screeched a couple of gnomes began pulling out her hair.<p>

"Where's Hermione when you need her," Harry mumbled, taking out his wand and trying to figure out what spell to use. Ron did the same, though it was obvious that they were at a loss.

"Oh for Merlin's-" Draco sighed before shouting 'immobulus' at the garden gnomes, causing all four thousand of them to stop immediately.

The three Weasley's in mortal danger swatted off the gnomes and stood up, brushing the dirt off of their clothes while Harry and Ron stared at Draco dumbly.

"What?" He asked, giving the two a casual shrug before walking away.

Harry looked around at the Weasley children, giving Ron a particularly helpless look before running after the heroic blonde.

* * *

><p>"I have an announcement to make," Mrs. Weasley said calmly half-way through dinner. The entire table stopped talking immediately and looked curiously at her.<p>

Draco didn't know what the big deal was - Mr. Weasley had already announced that the earfellytones were all the rage in New Zealand, Ron had announced that he loved Hermione, Percy had announced that Charlie was gay, and George had announced that Harry and Draco were getting married.

And no one had stopped talking for any of those, so whatever Mrs. Weasley did to command the attention of so many was miraculous, and Draco wanted her to teach it to him.

"Arthur and I have had a long discussion," Mrs. Weasley began, sounding confident and maybe a little smug. "I've decided-"

"And I've agreed," Mr. Weasley spoke up quickly, his ears going red when Mrs. Weasley shot him a look.

"-that we're going to turn the house into an orphanage."  
>There was a beat of silence, in which everyone but Draco processed this information. Personally, Draco thought that if anyone could take care of a bunch of unruly children, it was Mrs. Weasley. After all, she'd been since before he was born.<p>

"An orphanage?" Ginny finally said, sounding slightly dumbfounded.

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley beamed. "It's just that after the war, so many children are without parents, and you've all grown up - of course you're still welcome here any time, but..."  
>"That's absolutely wonderful Mrs. Weasley," Hermione exclaimed, getting up so that she could reach across the table and hug the older woman tightly. "If anyone can do it, you can!"<p>

Which was quickly followed by all of the Weasley's, plus their spouses and Harry, hurrying to congratulate them as well.

George promptly apparated from the table and came back two minutes later with a plethora of wine glasses and two bottles of firewhiskey. "This calls for a toast!" He exclaimed, taking his seat once more and passing around a healthy amount of each.

'Thank Merlin,' Draco thought in relief, 'for alcohol.'

"To mum and dad for being generally wonderful!" Bill called, raising his glass in a toast after everyone had been supplied with firewhiskey.

Draco repeated the sentiments with the others, though he wasn't nearly as raucous as the rest, and downed his half-filled wine glass all at once.

Harry smirked knowingly, grabbing the nearest bottle and refilling it for him.

Thank Merlin for Harry Potter.

* * *

><p>"To Aunt Muriel!" Ron roared thirty minutes later, the firewhiskey sloshing over the top of his glass before he inhaled it.<p>

"To Aunt Muriel!" Draco agreed while Harry giggled uncontrollably.

"To broomsticks!" Ginny exclaimed, downing her recently refilled glass and joining Harry's giggles with her own.

"To broomsticks!" Ron and Draco agreed, clanking their glasses together before drinking.

"To learning how to get off bras!" George toasted.

"Uh...yeah!" Draco said quietly (and yet loud enough for Luna to hear him, all the way at her house).

"Amen!" Ron yelled, clanking his glass with George's.

"To...To...Tutu's!" Hermione squealed, causing the others to start laughing uproarously.

"To being overage!"

"To lesbians!"

"To Spew!"

"S.P.E.W., dammit!"

"To sexual intercourse with small furry animals."  
>Everyone looked at Charlie curiously. They'd thought he'd fallen asleep at the table <em>hours<em> ago.

"Uh..."  
>"To England! Land of Harry Potter and truffles!"<p>

Harry shoved Draco playfully as everyone laughed.

"Oh, I think Draco's had a bit much to drink," Ginny told the others as she mussed up said boy's hair.

Draco swatted her hand, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Yeah," Harry said with a pout. "I guess we should probably apparate home, then."  
>"Harry," Hermione said seriously, laying a hand on top of his. "Friends don't let friends apparate drunk." To which they both immediately started giggling madly. The others joined in quickly, even though they had no idea what she was talking about.<p>

"Do be careful, Ickle Harrikins," George said, pounding Harry on the back in what was supposed to be a friendly gesture.

"Yeah," Ron snorted, "don't want to mess up Malfoy's beautiful face or anything."

Draco attempted to roll his eyes, but it didn't seem to be working. "I knew you were in to me, Weasley."

After saying many goodbyes to everyone (and promising Mrs. Weasley that he'd pop by in the morning to get her apple tart recipe) Draco allowed Harry to take his hand, and then they were gone.

* * *

><p>There was a loud crack signifying that Harry still wasn't all that great at the whole 'apparation' thing, quickly followed by the sound of a door opening and a man with a night cap looking at the two boys suspiciously.<p>

Harry said the first excuse to cross his mind. "He was saying things about my mum, so I smacked him," he told the man pitifully. "She's dead, you know."  
>"Yeah," Draco agreed, quickly going along with it. "And she can kiss my beautiful tanned bum!" He leaned down, sticking said bum into the air for everyone to see.<p>

Harry promptly pushed him over. "Though I've never seen your bum, Draco, I seriously doubt it's tanned. I mean," He continued, trying not to laugh, "the rest of you is all pale and pasty and the like. So even if your bum is tanned, it's got to look weird."  
>"More importantly," Draco said seriously from the pavement, "how can I get my bum tanned without getting the rest of me tanned?"<br>They spent a few drunken minutes contemplating this, promptly forgetting about the man who'd caught them doing something magical.

"I dunno," Harry finally said, holding out his hand for Draco to grab onto. There was a bit of stumbling, but he eventually managed to pull the taller boy to his feet. "We'll have to ask Hermione."  
>"D'you think Her-herme-heh-"<p>

"Hermione," Harry supplied when Draco seemed to be having trouble pronouncing it.

"Yes, her," Draco agreed, "D'you think she'd know?"

Harry shrugged. "Not a clue, but it never hurts to ask. Now, I'm thinking we get inside, have Binky make us some tea, and pass out on my bed, yeah?"

Draco smiled happily. "K."  
>"I like it when you smile," Harry said before realizing that he'd said anything at all.<p>

Even in Draco's drunken state, he was obviously surprised by Harry's outburst.

There was an awkward sort of silence as Harry floundered to give an excuse. "I-I don't know where that came from."

Draco snorted and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him forward. "You're such a twat, Potter. Now hurry up - I'm feeling a bit sleepy."

Harry could feel relief flood through him. That was possibly one of the things I liked most about spending time with Draco; He was always easy to talk to. Or argue with, depending on the topic of conversation and the time of day.

Draco turned the door handle...and paused, an expression of complete and utter befuddlement taking over his features. "Wos wrong?" Harry asked, unable to keep from smiling after seeing the look on Draco's face.

"It won't..." he shoved his shoulder up against the door, jiggling the handle, "fucking open!"

Harry rolled his eyes, pushing Draco lightly out of the way. "It gets stuck sometimes," he explained, going to open the door in his own special way. "You've just gotta-" the door didn't budge. "That usually works," he told the blonde, feeling a bit confused himself.

Draco promptly took out his wand and trained it on the door handle. "Alohamora."

Harry attempted to open the door again. Nothing.

All of the sudden, a piece of parchment descended from the top of the doorframe, bouncing slightly on it's strand of red present string. Harry tore it off, opening it curiously.

_A thank-you note will suffice, gentlemen._

_ Happy Christmas,_

_ George_

_p.s. look up._

_p.p.s. don't forget to use tongue._

Harry obediently looked up, only to see a small sprig of mistletoe. "That rat bastard," he murmured to himself while Draco followed the direction of Harry's eyes.

"Is that what I think it is?" He asked, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders to keep himself steady. It was hard to be intoxicated and look up, after all.

"Yes," Harry sighed.

This was just like George. Harry should've known better - the older boy had been much to nice to Draco all day. He'd only tried to prank him twice.

"Well," Draco shrugged, sending Harry a sidelong glance, "nothing for it then, I guess."  
>Before Harry could even process Draco's words, the other boy had cupped a hand over the back of Harry's neck and pulled him in for a slightly unexpected kiss.<p>

Harry squeaked, his eyes widening in shock, before realizing that of course they had to kiss if they wanted to get in the house.

It only lasted a second, more like a peck on the lips rather than anything more substantial, before Draco pulled away and attempted to open the door again. "Is there a thirty second rule or something?" He asked, looking at Harry curiously.

Harry sighed, remembering the p.p.s. George had added.

He leaned forward, capturing Draco's lips with his once more.

Draco's lips were, admittedly, quite pleasant. Soft and supple with just the barest hint of moisture, and slight stubble pressing into Harry's cheek.

Draco responded immediately, not seeming to be confused at all when Harry tentatively ran his tongue over the blonde's bottom lip, silently asking for entrance. Draco didn't even hesitate, just parted his lips the barest amount and then Harry wasn't thinking much at all.

He was a little busy enjoying and exploring Draco's mouth to really notice that they could probably go inside now, and Draco wasn't exactly fighting him off.

It was nice, and sweet, and may or may not have made Harry feel a little hot around the collar, until Draco finally pulled away, leaving Harry dazed and oddly unfulfilled, as though he'd been expecting more. "How about that tea?" Draco asked quietly, their lips only an inch apart, making Harry feel a bit more dazed, because for some reason he couldn't fathom in his drunken haze, he wanted to do it again.

"Sorry, what'd you say?" Harry asked, blinking rapidly. Trying to get the blood flowing back into his brain.

"Tea, you daft boy," Draco repeated, smiling in a way that was almost sweet. "Tea."

Harry nodded dumbly, barely even registering that Draco got the door open before following him inside and wondering if a thank-you note to George would be too impersonal.

* * *

><p>Across the street, George Weasley watched the proceedings with an air of smugness befitting a Zabini.<p>

When the two boys went inside Grimmauld Place, he apparated back to the Burrow with a soft pop. Immediately several faces loomed over him, hunger in their eyes.

"So?" Hermione asked, shaking George's shoulders harshly. "What happened?"  
>George grinned. "Malfoy kissed Harry first."<br>"Damn!" Ron swore loudly as he dug into his pocket and handed Hermione five galleons.

Across the room, Mr. Weasley was doing the same thing for his wife, looking just as put out as his youngest son.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, what'd you think? Excited? Disappointed? Slightly annoyed? =) why don't you review and tell me.


	15. Love Me Dead

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: The return of Neville and Blaise, and all of the fun things that accompany the end of Christmas Break

Also, Sesshomaru-XD-13 's song choice right here, so props.

Song: Love Me Dead - Ludo - Album: You're Awful, I Love You

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15 - Love Me Dead<strong>

_Blaise was pulling Neville along, their toes dipping into the pleasantly warm sand as they half-ran towards whatever they were running towards._

_ "Where are we going?" Neville laughed, allowing himself to be strung along, Blaise's fingers wrapped securely around his wrist._

_ "C'mon, before it gets dark!" Blaise exclaimed, an unreserved grin lighting up his features, making his chocolate brown eyes sparkle with excitement._

_ It was enough to make Neville excited as well._

_ Blaise stopped quite suddenly, causing Neville to stop with him, and the two looked around. _

_ The sea, so red it almost looked like blood, sparkling in the sun as gentle waves crashed along their feet, staining the bottoms of Neville's jeans something terrible._

_ "I heard there's sharks," Blaise told Neville, causing the Gryffindor to let out a short laugh._

_ "Yeah?" He asked, mostly rhetorically._

_ The sharks would be friendly after all, as all sharks were._

_ "And phosphorescent algae," Blaise continued, letting go of Neville's wrist and lifting a plain white shirt over his head, letting the garment fall to the sand between them._

_ A neon yellow bikini top took it's place, the bright color somehow managing to bring out the color in his lips, until they were almost the same color as the sea._

_ Thinking nothing of it, Neville quickly followed suit - he was wearing a green one piece under his clothes, though he couldn't remember putting it on._

_ Neville looked up from the newly acquired swim suit, but Blaise had gone off somewhere, causing Neville to look around._

_ "What are you waiting for?" Blaise shouted, and there he was, in the water, drops of red slowly cascading down his fit chest. "C'mon, Nev!"_

_ Neville let out a delighted laugh, because seeing Blaise in the water was just so funny, before running towards the waves and jumping in without regard._

_ It was icy cold, and -_

* * *

><p>Neville let out a quiet whimper, huddling into the warmth of his covers and the warmth of the body next to him until he felt Blaise's arms tighten around him in a comforting embrace.<p>

"Morning," Blaise mumbled sleepily, leaning down to kiss the top of the Gryffindor's head.

"I just had the strangest dream," Neville told him, his voice slightly muffled seeing as he'd dug his nose into the crook of his friend's neck. "Really odd...I think Justin must've slipped me some of his brownies during supper last night or something."  
>He felt Blaise's shoulders move in what he assumed was a shrug. "It's possible - you eat like a pig."<p>

Neville couldn't help but grin at that. There was something incredibly fulfilling about annoying Blaise sometimes.

"What was the dream about?" Blaise continued after a small but comfortable silence. Neville didn't even open his eyes.

"'S a bit fuzzy," he admitted, snuggling closer to Blaise. "But...we were at the beach, and the sea looked like blood, and you were wearing a yellow bikini, and something about phosphorescent algae, and then we went swimming."

He didn't have to look up to know that Blaise was giving him an incredulous stare. "I was wearing a _what_?"

"Yellow bikini," Neville repeated, yawning into the Slytherin's neck. "Like sunshine." Blaise didn't respond, and Neville assumed that he was too horrified by the mental image to form words. "If it helps any, I was wearing women's swim wear as well."  
>"That is a weird dream," Blaise finally conceded, causing Neville to smirk slightly. "I'm going to have to give Finch-Fletchley a stern talking too later."<p>

"You sound like an old man," Neville pointed out, flinging a leg in between both of Blaise's so that the position he was in would feel more comfortable. "'A stern talking to'. When's your fiftieth birthday, grandpa?"  
>"I'm going to have to give Finch-Fletchley a swift kick in the nuts later," Blaise corrected before letting out a small, slightly sadistic chuckle. "Better?"<p>

"Much," Neville replied. He was starting to dose off again.

"We should probably get up," Blaise murmured quietly after a moment, causing Neville to let out an unintelligible whine of protest. He didn't want to. "We've got a lot to do before everyone gets back."  
>Oh yeah. That was today, wasn't it.<p>

"Fuck everyone," Neville mumbled, snuggling closer into Blaise. "They can wait."  
>Neville could practically hear Blaise's thoughts - something along the lines of 'but we really should get this over with', and 'but I'm just so comfortable'. Which was exactly what Neville was thinking.<p>

Finally Blaise succumbed with a low groan, turning a bit and drawing Neville even closer until there was no air in between them. "Bloody teddy bear," he mumbled, his breath tickling a few strands of hair on top of Neville's head.

Neville grinned triumphantly, allowing sleep to overtake his exhausted brain once more.

* * *

><p>Draco was practically skipping as he left Harry in a compartment with Granger and Weasley, instead going on a search for people that weren't complete morons.<p>

Well, Granger wasn't an _complete_ moron, unfortunately. She'd been giving him knowing looks since Christmas. And Granger giving anyone knowing looks was disconcerting.

But no, he wasn't thinking about Granger now. He was going to find Pansy and Theo and gossip with the tenacity of a first year Hufflepuff. That's right. Tenacity.

Which was not, by the way, the capitol of Georgia, as accused by 'Robert' from an episode of Jeopardy.

Thank Merlin for Television.

"Pansy!" Draco all but squealed upon seeing his second favorite person in the entire magical world as she was leaving the Slytherin compartment.

"Draco," Pansy retaliated with an air of boredom. "I see you survived Christmas break with the Gryffindors."

"I snogged Harry!" Draco yelled, not paying any attention to her, or the fact that she was not the only one within earshot.

Yes, there were many students staring at him in undisguised horror, and he didn't have the will to care. Did they not realize what an enormous accomplishment this was?

Pansy's eyes widened and she grabbed the blonde by the arm, all but dragging him into an empty compartment and looking scandalized. "Tell the world, why don't you!"

"If you don't mind," Draco agreed, attempting to get out of her grip.

"Why did you kiss Potter?" Pansy asked, ignoring his remark with the air of someone who did it often.

"Mistletoe," Draco answered promptly. "But that's not important - I kissed Potter, and he kissed back!"

Pansy let him go, too busy staring at him in shock. "He _kissed you back_?" She asked incredulously. "Why the hell would he do that?"

Draco shrugged, not deterred by her confusion. "Mistletoe."

She let out a low groan, which absolutely made no sense to Draco what so ever. As his best friend, she should've been excited for him. This was victory, after all.

* * *

><p>"You failed," Ron told Harry as soon as Draco had shut the compartment door behind him with the excuse of 'wanting to get away'. "At life. You giant freaking dildo."<p>

To say Harry was confused would've been a vast understatement. "Er...what?"

"You didn't snog Malfoy!" Ron all but yelled, his entire face going red. "Malfoy snogged you, you bastard! Do you know how smug Hermione gets when she's won a bet?"

"Hey," Hermione exclaimed, looking quite offended.

"I didn't snog Draco," Harry said immediately.

Deny, deny, deny.

"Exactly," Ron said firmly, crossing his arms and pouting most spectacularly. "And I really kind of hate you right now."

"How much did you bet?" Harry couldn't help but ask, his curiosity getting the best out of him. He didn't have the heart to tell Ron that he had, in fact, snogged the hell out of Malfoy. Only once, of course, and they were both completely wasted and had a perfect alibi for the incident, but still. Ron didn't need to hear all of the details.

"Five galleons," Ron told him, looking quite miserable.

"I told you I'd give them back, if they were that important to you," Hermione said in her most annoyed tone that told Harry and Ron that she was still miffed about being called 'smug'.

"It's not the point!" Ron snapped, his ears going, if possible, even redder. "It's the principle of the thing."

"What were the exact words of the bet?" Harry questioned, putting on his metaphorical detective hat. Anything to keep his two best friends from bickering.

"If you initiated the snog session, then Ron got five galleons," Hermione recited immediately, as she was prone to do when faced with a question. "But if Malfoy initiated the snog session with you, then I'd get five galleons."

"Alright," Harry said thinking slowly. He quite possibly had a solution. "Well...I'm not saying there was any snogging going on between Draco and myself-" Deny, deny, deny "-but if there had been, it only would've been because of the mistletoe that George put up. In which case Neither me nor Draco initiated any sort of snogging, George did. Give Ron his five galleons back, 'Mione."

Hermione looked put out by his logic (which was an accomplishment, Harry felt), but grudgingly handed Ron five galleons from his pocket.

"B-But," Ron spluttered, not seeming to be pacified in the slightest bit. "That means that the bet is still going on!"

Hermione pouted. "Well then that's not fair," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because now Harry knows about the bet, so if he kisses Malfoy first, then you'll get five galleons. It's like cheating, Ron."  
>"It's not cheating!" Ron argued. "Harry knew about the bet ages ago. We've already told him!"<br>"_You_ already told him," Hermione mumbled, glaring at her boyfriend viciously. "Cheater."

"I am not!" Ron exclaimed defensively. "Maybe we should make a new bet!"

Almost immediately, Hermione seemed to brighten. "Yes," she said, smirking in a very Slytherin manner, "lets."

Harry was still trying to figure out when they'd first told him about the bet. He couldn't seem to remember.

* * *

><p>Upon entering Hogwarts for the first time in what felt like forever, but was actually only two weeks, Harry immediately grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him towards the tower.<p>

"What're you doing?" Draco asked. He'd become quite used to this sort of thing.

"Tired," Harry mumbled, not letting go of Draco's hand. "Sleep."

"But we'll miss the feast," Draco protested. Not that he really cared, but it just seemed wrong to give into Harry so easily.

"I've had to listen," Harry began flatly, looking exhausted, "to Ron and Hermione bicker with each other for five straight hours. It's gets tiring after a while."

Draco could've protested that surely Harry didn't need him to fall asleep, but then that would be completely counterproductive. So of course he didn't say anything.

They argued with the portrait for a half-hour, randomly saying words until finally, after so very long, they managed to get the new password. After that it was a straight shoot up to the dormitory, ending with Harry pushing Draco onto the bed before falling unceremoniously on him and passing out.

And that concluded their first night back at Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays.

* * *

><p>After classes the next day, Draco found Harry outside, sitting near the frozen lake on a particularly large patch of snow next to Weasley.<p>

Weasley took one look at Draco and immediately got up, giving Harry an indecipherable look that had Harry blushing pink.

"Weasley," Draco greeted darkly as the two passed each other.

"Malfoy," Weasley sneered, shoving him a bit so that Draco stumbled into Harry's back.

Draco was all set and ready to give Weasley a piece of his mind, but found himself forgetting anything he'd been about to say or do when Harry grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him down.

"Cold!" He squealed as the snow hit his bum, practically jumping into Harry's lap in an attempt to get away.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, making a sound that seemed suspiciously like a snort of laughter.

"What are _you_ doing?" Draco said in return, glaring up at his former nemesis.

Harry opened his mouth as if to answer, silly green eyes twinkling in what was definitely amusement, before they seemed to catch something far away. After which his jaw fell open and a stupid grin took of his much too handsome face. "Squirrel!" He yelled, causing Draco to jump in surprise.

What an idiot.

"It's the middle of winter, Potter," Draco reminded him, rolling his eyes. "There are no squirrel's in-" He was cut off when Harry forcefully grabbed his head by the cheeks and turned it until Draco's eyes caught sight of an actual squirrel.

Huh.

"Squirrel," Draco agreed, slightly surprised.

It was sitting about ten feet away, staring at the two boys curiously. Then Harry did the one thing that Draco never expected.

He screwed his face up into the strangest expression, and then let out with, insanely enough, baby talk. "Hello wittle Voldemort!" Harry cooed, reaching over Draco to pat the snow invitingly. "Who's a cute wittle Voldemort? You are! Yes you are! Come here, Voldy. C'mon!"

Draco may or may not have face planted.

"You can't name the squirrel You-Know-Who, you idiot!" He snapped, crawling off of Harry's lap. "It's a fucking _squirrel_ for fucks sake!"

"Iz a cute wittle squirrel!" Harry replied in the annoying baby voice.

Voldemort the Squirrel took a tentative step closer.

"That's right darling," Harry said sweetly in an obvious attempt to egg the poor squirrel on. "C'mere Voldemort!"

"Stop calling the squirrel You-Know-Who!" Draco ordered, crossing his arms and glaring at his possibly-not-so-former nemesis with all of the authority of a pigeon. "You-Know-Who was an insane, menacing, evil creature-like man who killed hundreds of people! That's a fucking squirrel!" He motioned wildly to Voldemort the Squirrel.

"Well then you can follow the fucking squirrel around," Harry replied smartly as the Voldemort the Squirrel came ever closer. "Let's face it, their brains are about the same size."

"It's a fucking squirrel!" Draco shrieked - not that Voldemort the Squirrel seemed to care as it inched a few more steps forward - easily losing his temper.

The nerve of him!

"You're scaring Voldemort," Harry told Draco with a glare. "Stop yelling at the top of your lungs."

Draco paused. Was it even possible to scare Voldemort?

Voldemort the Squirrel was less than a foot away from them now, and Harry began his baby talk once more with vigor.

"Here wittle Voldemort! Yes, come to me - I'll give you some nice acorns - that's right...oh aren't you just darling!"

"I can't believe you called You-Know-Who 'darling'," Draco mumbled under his breath.

Harry reached his hand slightly as Voldemort the Squirrel took one stop closer...and promptly snapped it back again, his face screwing up in shock and pain. "It bit me!" He exclaimed, holding his injured hand on his lap whilst Voldemort the Squirrel scurried away. "That fucker bit me!"

Draco couldn't help but snigger. "True to his namesake after all, then. Perhaps next time you should try something easier - like naming it 'Longbottom'."

Harry pouted, holding his hand right under Draco's nose. "Shut up and kiss my boo-boo, you twat!"

"What are you?" Draco asked incredulously, even as he bent down and pressed his lips to Harry's injury accordingly. "Three?"

Harry stuck out his tongue in response.

* * *

><p>"Of course!" Blaise yelled, the sound made only louder by the silence of the library. Madam Pince glared at him.<p>

"What?" Neville asked curiously, leaning over to get a look at the book Blaise had been reading.

They'd been there since lunch, skipping their last class of the day in favor of research. They wouldn't have, but McGonagall had been getting awfully angry at them lately.

"We have to find out who cursed Hogwarts," Blaise explained as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Because, of course, it was. To Neville, at least.

"Well, duh," Neville said, rolling his eyes. "What do you think we've been doing for the past four months?"

"No," Blaise moaned, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "I mean that we can't get rid of the curse until we find out who cursed us in the first place. Look, see for yourself." He pushed the book at Neville, who obediently began reading.

'_In accordance to Percival's fifth law of dark charms, certain curses may only be relinquished by the original charmer(s). Such curses, whether meant for good or evil, are tied solely to the charmer(s), giving him/her/they the only true power of said curse. Examples include Fiendfyre, The Imperius Curse, and the Cruciatus Curse._'

"Well," Neville said brightly, shutting the book with a snap and causing Madam Pince to glare at them again. "Easy as pie - it's a death eater."

Blaise stared at him for a good minute before replying. "What makes you say that?" He finally asked, crossing his arms defensively. Which made absolutely no sense to Neville, seeing as Blaise had been neutral during the war.

"Did you _not_ read the examples?" Neville couldn't help but ask incredulously. "Two of them are unforgivables, and the third is downright evil. Hence the fact that it has to be death eaters."

"Yes, but it also said that curses could be good," Blaise pointed out, his arms tightening around him slightly. "So maybe someone wanted to do something stupid, like play a prank, and it got out of control. Or it could've been an accident from some idiotic first year. The point is that you're all so convinced that it's death eaters, when it might be so much more complicated then that. Perhaps we should be thinking outside of the box, Nev."

"Or perhaps you're making things more complicated then they need to be," Neville replied with a small frown. "I wasn't convinced it was death eaters until a minute ago when I read the paragraph that _you_ showed me. It points to death eaters, Blaise."

"There was a battle here, in case you've forgotten," Blaise reminded him, looking frustrated. "Do you realize how incredibly easy it would be for someone on your side to have meant to cast it on a death eater, and ended up missing and hitting the school instead. I don't know if you've read Hogwarts, A History-"

"Might as well have," Neville mumbled under his breath, suddenly reminded strongly of Hermione.

"-but if a spell is strong enough, the school's magic will absorb it. Or it could've simply been a spell gone wrong during the rebuilding process. Death Eaters are not always the answer."

"And sometimes they are," Neville argued, mirroring Blaise's annoyed expression. "Who else would be completely retarded enough to cast a spell on Hogwarts that's about singing your feelings?"

"Yes," Blaise began dryly, "that sounds _exactly_ like something a death eater would do."

"What is your problem?" Neville finally snapped, slamming his hands down on the desk in frustration.

"My problem," Blaise told him in a low growl, "is that for someone who's so against death eaters, you don't seem to have a problem _fucking_ one."

For a split second, Neville wondered if perhaps the library might not be the best place to have a lover's quarrel, but the thought was quickly overrun by Blaise's words.

"You weren't-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Longbottom," Blaise scoffed, cutting Neville off easily. "There was no neutrality during the war. I might not've gotten the dark mark, but that doesn't mean I didn't want them to win."

Neville had the oddest sensation of feeling as though he'd been stabbed. This feeling was replaced by the numbness of shock, which was quickly overtaken by downright fury.

There was something quite painful about learning that the person that you spent the most time with hated everything you stood for.

Pushing the chair back and getting to his feet, Neville could feel his anger mounting. "Go fuck yourself, Zabini," he said, putting as much venom into his voice as was possible.

Blaise didn't respond, and Neville promptly turned around and made his way out of the library. Hermione stood at the entrance, gaping and looking at Neville like she'd never quite seen him before. He didn't wonder how much she heard. He was too busy trying to keep himself from going back and punching Blaise as hard as he could.

It was a difficult thing to accomplish, but it was managed.

* * *

><p>There was a ten minute period where Hermione glared daggers at Blaise before he finally got to his feet and ran after Neville.<p>

Blaise didn't know what he'd been thinking in the first place. He'd known from the beginning that trying anything with Neville was a long shot at best, and that maybe it was better if Neville hated him because he couldn't possibly like Blaise that much already, so it would hurt less if it happened early on.

But at the same time he couldn't stand the thought of Neville hating him. Blaise didn't want Neville to hate him. Indifference would be alright, he supposed, but hate seemed to be taking it a bit far.

So he did the only thing that he could possibly do. He went to apologize.

It wasn't that hard to find Neville - there were only so many places he could be - and was unsurprised to find the boy that he might've liked an awful lot sitting in the common room, glaring angrily at the fire in the fireplace.

"I'm sorry," Blaise said, breathing a bit heavy from the long run. "I don't know what I was thinking, and I shouldn't have-"  
>He cut off when Neville held up a hand to shut him up.<p>

"Honestly," Blaise continued when Neville didn't immediately speak, "I swear I didn't mean-"

"_Love me cancerously_,"

"No," Blaise moaned as everyone's eyes snapped to Neville's form behind his plush arm chair, "don't sing!"

"_Like a salt-sore soaked in the sea._

_ High maintenance means you're a gluttonous king_

_ Narcissistic and mean._"

"I'm sorry," Blaise tried again as the occupants of the room snapped their fingers once.

"_Kill me romantically_!" Neville cried, standing up and spinning around to face Blaise.

"_Fill my soul with vomit _

_ Then ask me for a piece of gum_

_ Bitter and dumb, you're my sugerplum_

_ You're awful, I love you_,

"_He moves through moon beams slowly._"

The room paired up and began a slow waltz.

"_He knows just how to hold me_

_ And when his edges soften,_

_ His body is my coffin_."

At 'coffin', the eighth years banged on the air in front of them with their closed fists in unison.

"_I know he drains me slowly_

_ He wears me down to bones in bed_

_ Must be the sign on my head, it says_

_ 'Oh, love me dead_!'"

Neville raised his fist and pounded it in the air thrice.

"_Love me dead_!"

He fell to his knees, looking up at Blaise in a way that would've been erotic if not for the words pouring out of his mouth.

"_You're a faith healer on T.V._

_ You're an office park without any trees,_

_ Corporate and cold,_

_ Gushing for gold,_

_ Leave me alone_!

"_You suck so passionately!_

_ You're a parasitic psycho, filthy creature_

_ Finger bangin' my heart._

_ You call me up drunk, does the fun ever start!_

_ You're hideous, and sexy_!"

Blaise might've stunned him as a form of mercy, but he had a feeling that Neville wouldn't find it merciful at all.

"_He moves through moonbeams slowly,_

_ He knows just how to hold me,_

_ And when his edges soften,_

_ His body is my coffin_,"

The eighth years did the banging in the air again.

"_I know he drains me slowly,_

_ He wears me down to bones in bed,_

_ Must be the sign on my head, it says_

_ 'Oh love me dead'. Love me dead_!"

"_Wow_," Neville raised his hands in the air. " _Uh_," He brought them down to his hips, humping the air once.

And suddenly Sue Li was doing a guitar solo.

"_Love me cancerously_," Neville repeated, followed by him whistling the tune he was singing to.

"_Blaat da da-da-da da!_

_ Blaat da da-da-da da!_

_ How's your new boy_-"

The crowd of students through their hands at Blaise, retracting slowly.

"-_Does he know about me?_

_ You've got the mark of the beast_!"

Neville grabbed Blaise's hands in his.

"_You're born of a jackal!_

_ You're beautiful_!"

"_He moves through moon beams slowly_," The others began to sing as Neville danced Blaise around the room.

"_He knows just how to hold me,_

_ And when his edges soften_

_ His body is my coffin,_

_ I know he drains me slowly,_

_ He wears me down to bones in bed!_

_ Wha' 'bout the sign on my head_?"

Neville brought Blaise close as if to kiss him.

"_It says 'oh love me dead_!'"

And then Neville shoved him away so hard that Blaise stumbled back, almost falling except for Anthony Goldstein and Ron Weasley's hand pushing him up right.

"_Ohhh_," Neville sang, holding a dramatic hand to his heart. "_Lo-o-o-ove me-hee dead_!"

The eighth year students went back to whatever they'd been doing before, so used to the random singing and dancing as they'd become, leaving Neville and Blaise to stare at each other.

Blaise was tempted to ask if that meant Neville hadn't forgiven him, but didn't get the chance.

Neville had already stalked out of the common room, and Blaise knew better than to go looking for him again.

Oh, thank you but applause isn't necessary ;). No, but seriously, review and tell me what you think of this chapter. Or if I should really start updating more often.

Have a wonderful evening/morning/day - goodnight! *bow*


	16. Undead

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: Holy shit I'm so sorry this took so fucking long! I'm a horrible person, but my life went to shit for a while and apparently it's really hard to write something that's supposed to be funny when you're angry all the time. So yeah, sorry again.

Song: Undead - Hollywood Undead - Album: Swan Songs

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16 - Undead<strong>

Draco was a wee bit upset. He hadn't been, at first, but then he'd done the stupid thing and stewed over it for a good five hours, until it was time for bed.

And now there he was, laying on Harry's bed with - strangely enough - Harry, who had decided to use him as a pillow. Draco could tell by the way Harry twitched every few seconds that he was not, in fact, asleep.

Probably thinking about unicorns and rainbows and being completely unconcerned with what he'd said earlier, the bastard.

"What are we doing, Potter?" Draco finally sighed resignedly, knowing without a doubt that if he stewed any longer he was liable to burst and make a fool of himself.

Harry's head popped up from Draco's chest and he stared down at the blonde, looking worried. "You're angry. Why are you angry? What did I do?"

Draco might've smirked, if he hadn't felt so shitty. "What makes you think I'm angry?"

"You said 'Potter'," Harry explained, frowning. "And you've got that tone of voice. The one when you've been angry for a while and have just now decided to let me know."

Well, he couldn't argue with that logic.

"It's about what you said earlier," Draco admitted, grimacing. "When you were trying to pet the squirrel."

"Voldemort," Harry grumbled, looking a little angry and touching his bitten finger.

"Yes, that squirrel," Draco agreed patiently, wondering how many other squirrels Harry had been around lately. "You just...I really kind of despise it when you do that."

"Talk to squirrels?" Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows slightly. Draco rolled his eyes.

"No, you twat, when you bring up my time with...er...him."

"Voldemort?" Harry tried again, looking hopeful. Draco nodded, staring at the hangings instead of meeting Harry's eyes.

"Yeah. I mean," He continued quickly, "I know last year wasn't a picnic for you either, but I think you forget that I had to _live_ with the evil bastard."

"You were a victim," Harry agreed thoughtfully.

Draco glared coldly at him. "I was not a _victim_, Potter! I'm never a bloody _victim_!"

"Lot's of people were victims to Voldemort," Harry said with a shrug. "And so were you. I remember how scared you were, you know."

"I wasn't-"

"You were," Harry interrupted Draco, frowning again. "And...well, you kind of saved my life. Thanks for that, by the way."  
>"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco replied stiffly. Though honestly he did. It was hard not to remember seeing Harry after half a year and feeling so <em>relieved<em> that he was still alive. It was the first moment that Draco had honestly thought that the Gryffindor had a chance of winning the war, watching him and his friends and Dobby the House elf take on his parents and Aunt Bella.

"Yes you do," Harry said, a little smugly.

"Anyways," Draco said quickly, "the point is is that I don't like it when you say shit like that."  
>"What did I say again?" Harry asked, seeming to decide that the danger had passed, because he promptly began laying on Draco again.<p>

"You told me that I should follow the squirrel around, after I mentioned that the Dark Lord was a psycho."

Harry nodded slowly. "Right, I shouldn't have said that." Draco agreed whole-heartedly.

"Loathe as I am to admit it," Draco continued after a moment of silence, "we need to talk about some stuff."  
>He felt Harry tense. "W-What kind of stuff?"<br>Draco took a deep breath. "War stuff."  
>Harry shook his head violently against Draco's chest. "I don't want to. No offense or anything, but I'd really prefer to just let the last few years kind of go away, for a bit. Maybe."<p>

Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes. "You realize you're going to have to talk about it with someone at some point, right?"

Harry raised his head slightly to look at Draco. "Have you?" He asked quietly, and Draco was surprised to see that he almost looked sad.

"No," Draco admitted, nibbling awkwardly on his bottom lip. "But I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Harry only shook his head again before laying it back on Draco's chest.

There was a moment in which silence reigned, and then Harry was speaking again. "Draco, what are we?"

Draco raised his head from the pillow to stare at the black mass that was Harry's head. "Is this your attempt at deflecting?"

"No," Harry replied, and Draco felt his lips turn up into a smile. "It's a serious question. Are we friends, or bunk mates, or...well, I don't know. That's why I'm asking you."  
>Draco was tempted to say that they were more than friends, but less than gay lovers. But of course he was a former Malfoy, and former Malfoy's never admitted their feelings first. It was like a rule, taught at birth. "What do you want to be?" He said. It seemed like the suitable response.<p>

"I asked you first," Harry pointed out, definitely grinning now.

"And I asked you second," Draco agreed, unable to keep from smiling a bit as well. It wasn't as if Harry could see it, after all. "So you answer me first and I'll answer you second."

"That doesn't make any sense."  
>"Of course it does, you're just an ignoramus."<br>Draco felt Harry shaking slightly, and smugly realized that Harry was laughing. "That's a new one, Draco. I'm impressed."  
>"Of course you are," Draco agreed, smirking. "Have you seen my hair lately? Impressive."<br>Former Malfoy's were also taught to be masters of deflection.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Harry sat at the breakfast table between Hannah Abbot and Ron, watching in horror as Ron made lovey-dovey eyes at Hermione.<br>"Do either of have any tact at all?" He asked, shaking his head in disgust.

"No," Hermione answered in a far away voice, smiling slyly at her boyfriend.

"I worry about your mental health, Mione," Harry told her seriously. "I expected this from Ron, but you're usually going frantic over your notes for N.E.W.T.s."

"They can wait," Ron told him, shoving Harry away as he tried to get closer to the two of them.

"You know," Harry said quietly, "Luna says that if you stare at someone for too long, you'll turn into them."  
>Nevermind that Luna had said that specifically to Harry after she'd caught him eyeing Draco up for twenty minutes straight.<p>

It seemed to do the trick, because both Ron and Hermione stopped staring at each other so that they could stare at Harry instead. "You've been listening to Luna?" Hermione asked, looking quite exasperated.

Harry nodded solemnly. "The woman makes sense sometimes, what can I say?"

"You can say 'I'm a little teapot'," Ron suggested, smiling at him hopefully. Harry shook his head, and Ron's smile fell into a sad frown.

"Is there a particular reason you wanted Ron and I to pay attention to you?" Hermione asked Harry curiously. "Not that we don't want to, of course, but you seemed to be enjoying time with your new friend."

And by 'friend' Harry knew she meant 'Draco'.

"He's being weird with me," Harry admitted. "I mentioned his whole 'death eater' thing, and now he's being-"

"Oh, crap," Hannah groaned, cutting off Harry probably without even meaning to.

"Goodie," Harry muttered sarcastically as Hannah, along with the other Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw eighth years pushed themselves away from the table and glared at each other.

"_**Undead**_!" The Ravenclaws called from one side of the table.

"_Undead_!" The Hufflepuffs repeated, crossing their arms challengingly.

"_**Undead**_!"

"_You better get up out the way_,"

The Hufflepuffs sang in ear-piercing unison.

"_Tomorrow we'll rise so we fight today,_

_ You know I don't give a fuck what you think and say,_

_ Cause we gonna rock this whole place anyway_!"

"_**You better get up out the way**_,"

The Ravenclaws responded, sneering at the Hufflepuffs.

"_**Tomorrow we'll rise so we fight today,**_

_** You know, I don't give a fuck what you think and say,**_

_** Cause we gonna rock this whole place anyway**_."

Susan bones jumped on top of the eighth year table, pointing down to the Ravenclaws.

"_Look up see that motherfuckin' writin' on the wall_

_ When you see, S-C-B, thirty deep, she's down to brawl_

_ Fuck all haters I see, cause I hate that you breathe,_

_ I see you duck, you little punks, you little fucking diseases_."

"_I got H.U. tattooed on the front of my arms_,"

Ernie said, taking Susan's place as she fell into a crowd of Hufflepuff's that actually caught her and set her down.

"_Boulevard, brass knuckles in the back of the car,_

_ Cause we drunk fly firebolts, we never go far,_

_ But when you see us motherfuckers, better know who we are_."

"_I got one thing to say to punk asses who hate_,"

Justin Finch-Fletchley said to the Ravenclaws as Ernie did the same thing as his rapping predecessor.

"_Motherfuckers don't know what,_

_ You better watch what you say._

_ From these industry fucks,_

_ To these faggot ass punks,_

_ You don't know what it takes,_

_ To get this motherfuckin' drunk_."

"_I'm already loud maybe, it's a little too late_,"

Megan said, not getting on top of the table, instead standing on the chair locked onto the table.

"_Justin's taking heads off of all faggots who hate,_

_ Cause I'm a God motherfucker and there's a price to pay,_

_ Yeah, I'm a God motherfucker and it's judgment day_!"

"_**You better get up out the way**_," the Ravenclaws started again,

"_**Tomorrow we'll rise so we fight today,**_

_** You know I don't give a fuck what you think and say,**_

_** Cause we gonna rock this whole place anyway**_!"

"_You better get up out the way_," And again the Hufflepuffs.

"_Tomorrow we'll rise so we fight today_

_ You know I don't give a fuck what you think and say,_

_ Cause we gonna rock this whole place anyway_!"

And so came Anthony Goldstein.

"_**I'm getting used to this nuisance, and fags who bad mouth this music,**_

_** How fuckin' stupid and foolish of you to think you can do this,**_

_** You cowards can't, you never will, don't even try to pursue it**_

_** I took the chance, I payed the bill, I nearly died for this music**_!"

"_**You make me wanna go around pulling my wand out and shit**_,"

Rapped Michael Corner.

"_**Your tempting me to run my mouth, and call you out on this bitch,**_

_** How ignorant you gotta be to believe any of this,**_

_** You need to slit your wrist, get pissed and go jump off a bridge!**_"

"Now that's not very nice," Harry murmured, feeling faintly annoyed. Way to ruin a good breakfast.

"_**What? You can't see the sarcasm in the verses I spit**_?"

Began Padma Patil. After a glance at her twin sister, it was obvious that Pavarti was horrified.

"_**What? You think I just got lucky and didn't work for this shit?**_

_** Bitch I've been working at this ever since I was a kid,**_

_** I played a million empty shows to only family and friends**_."

"That's redundant," Hermione pointed out, while Ron sniggered.

"_**What kind of person would diss a house that deserves to get big?**_

_** I'd hate to be that person when my verse comes out their kid's lips.**_

_** That shit's as worse as it gets.**_

_** This verse is over, I quit.**_

_** Signed Sue Li on your girlfriend's tits**_!"

A few people watching gasped at Sue Li's words, and Harry was among them. Some things just weren't supposed to happen.

The chorus rang out again, first from the Hufflepuffs, then again from the Ravenclaws. And afterwards, to everyone's immense surprise, Hannah Abbot jumped on the table as well for a new kind of horror.

"_White boys with tattoos,_

_ Po-pointing right at you,_

_ We're breaking everything, r-rowdy like a classroom,_

_ Pack of wolves,_"

Ernie Macmillan 'awoo'd disturbingly.

"_'Cause we don't follow the rules,_

_ And when you're running your mouth,_

_ Our razor blades come out!_

_ Why you always pressin?_

_ You know I'm never stressin,_

_ With fucking JFF,_

_ M-Megan to my left,_

_ Got Susan and the rest,_

_ Who are down to rep the west,_

_ I grew up on by drive by's and London gang signs_,"

"Sorry?" Ron asked, perking up slightly. "Did she just say what I think she just said?"

Harry nodded numbly.

"_So what the fuck you know about being a gangsta_?"

"Oh yes," Hermione said with a small smirk, "no one will ever let her forget this."

"_What the fuck you know about being in danger?_

_ You ain't doing this, so you know you're just talking shit._

_ Mad at all of us... cause every curse is a fuckin' hit_!"

"_You better get up out the way_!" The Hufflepuffs began once more, and Hannah, who was still on top of the table, raised her fists above her head.

"_Tomorrow we'll rise so we fight today,_

_ You know I don't give a fuck what you think and say,_

_ Cause we gonna rock this whole place anyway_!"

"_**Mother fuckers time to ride, ride**_," called Terry Boot while the Ravenclaws yelled '_**undead**_!'

"_**See you duck as we fly by**_,"

"_Undead_!" The Hufflepuffs retaliated.

"_**Mother fuckers time to ride, ride**_!"

"_**Undead**_!"

"_**Won't you punks just die, die**_!"

"_Undead_!" The Hufflepuffs finished.

Ron began clapping loudly.

* * *

><p>Neville was busy sulking in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch when he saw someone zoom up into the air. Judging by the speed of the broom and the grace of the flier, Neville could only assume that it was Harry.<p>

Of course, Harry was too high up for him to make out, so technically he wasn't completely sure it even _was_ Harry, but he could still assume.

So Neville watched, continuing to sulk as the-flier-that-was-probably-Harry flew about in lazy circles, doing half-assed dives. Obviously Harry hadn't rode a broom in a while, because while he was still amazing at it, he seemed a bit jerky with his movements sometimes.

Blaise was such a back-stabbing _arsehole_!

The-flier-that-was-probably-Harry swooped about twenty feet lower and Neville didn't see the shock of black hair that he'd been expecting. Instead he saw a shock of blonde hair, which was more than a little disconcerting. Because really, when had Malfoy gotten so good on a broomstick?

Neville let out a snort of slightly disturbed laughter at the thought, because considering how much time Malfoy and Harry spent together, Malfoy was probably a genius on '_broomsticks'_.

He watched as Malfoy looked down - apparently the laughter had been louder than Neville thought - before beginning to make lazy circles in the air that went lower and lower each go-round.

Quite suddenly, there was a windswept blonde Slytherin standing next to him, looking down upon Neville with the disdain that only a Malfoy could pull off.

"What are you doing down here, Longbottom?" Malfoy asked with a sneer. It was only because of knowing the boy for almost eight and a half years that Neville could hear the honest curiosity in his voice.

"Silently bitching about stupid Italian former Slytherins," Neville replied honestly, not seeing a logical reason to hide his thoughts. "And giggling over dirty inuendo's that my mind keeps accidentally making up. What are you doing up there?" He pointed to the sky, though Malfoy was obviously back on the ground.

After a moment, Malfoy shrugged and sat down beside him. "Silently bitching about stupid Dark Lord Vanquishing former Gryffindors."

Neville nodded in understanding.

Though really, he'd never thought he'd see the day when he and Malfoy shared a feeling of silent bitchiness. Then again, Neville had never thought he'd be the type to silently bitch about people.

Malfoy probably did it all the time, though.

"What did Harry do?" Neville couldn't help but ask, interest getting the best of him. It would be nice to think of someone elses relationship problems for a change.

"I don't know," Malfoy said with a frown. "I mean, I know why I was angry at him last night, but that's been all sorted out, so really I guess now I'm just pissed for no reason at all."

"Sounds like it sucks," Neville mused, for lack of a better thing to say. Malfoy nodded and gave a forlorn sigh.

"What did Blaise do?" Malfoy asked, and Neville groaned at the horror of it all.

"He pretty much said my ideals were shit and that Voldemort should've won the war. Bastard."

Malfoy scoffed, waving off Neville's problems with a wave of his hand. "Oh don't be so upset, it's not like he meant it."

Neville stared at him, waiting for an elaboration. Malfoy spotted the expression and scoffed again, even going so far as to roll his eyes.

"Look, Longbottom, Blaise is practically the worst Slytherin to ever exist, he's so bad at it. But his _one_ redeeming Slytherin quality is that he always knows exactly just what to say to piss someone off. Trust me, we've all hated Blaise at one point or another in the Slytherin dorms."

Neville couldn't help but pout a bit at Malfoy's words. "Well that's stupid," He sneered. "Why the hell would Blaise want to piss me off? I didn't even do anything!"

Malfoy scoffed and slowly got back on his feet. "How should I know? Why don't you man up and ask the dirty bugger yourself instead of coming to me with your problems."

Neville wanted to point out that he hadn't come to Malfoy, Malfoy had come to him, but it wouldn't do any good. "Have you told Harry that you're in love with him and want to have lots of sex and babies?" He asked instead, more interested than was probably necessary.

To Neville's surprise, Malfoy's pale cheeks went pink and he looked away. "No," he admitted after a minute, and Neville couldn't help but grin victoriously.

"Then man up and -"

"Oh, shut up," Malfoy snapped before stalking away, leaving Neville to giggle like a mad man in his wake.

* * *

><p>AN: Hope you liked it blahblahblah read and review blahblahblah I'm getting started on the next chapter right away =). Oh yeah, and song requests if you have them, of course.


	17. Red Solo Cup

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: This chapter goes out to Pyrofyre1214 and ZADRvampy for their songs. Well, not _their_ songs, but the songs that...oh fuck it, you know what I mean. And, as usual, sorry for taking so long. I hope I've made up for it by having this chapter be, like, fifteen pages long. Which is more than half of what I usually do. So...yeah.

Songs: Red Solo Cup - Toby Keith - Album: Clancy's Tavern

Girlfriend - Avril Lavigne - Album: The Best Damn Thing

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17 - Red Solo Cup<strong>

Harry was bored. And not just a little bored either, but instead supremely bored, to the point where he would've done anything just to alleviate some of the exhaustion that came with supreme bored-ness.

Which was exactly why he was in the library. If nothing else, studying wouldn't be boring. And if it was (which it is) then at least something good would be coming out of it.

Of course, it was hard to study when Harry's mind kept popping to the most random things, like Voldemort The Squirrel, and Draco, and sleep, and Draco again, and really where the hell _was_ he? They were supposed to come to the library to study together; instead, Harry was stuck in the library all on by his lonesome, with no friends or annoyingly good kissers to keep him company.

Where was the fun in that?

"Hey, Harry." Harry's head shot away from the book that he'd been resting it on, looking up quickly to see none other than Ginny Weasley pulling out a chair to sit across from him. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Yeah," Harry agreed sleepily while attempting to discreetly wipe drool from whatever book he'd been 'studying'. "Been awhile. What's up?"

"Bored," Ginny admitted with a slight scowl. "Figured I'm come in here and work on my Charms homework."

"That's a good idea," Harry said, running a hand through his already unruffled hair and blinking back the sleep that was threatening to re-consume him. "When's it due again?"

Ginny gave him a fond smile that had Harry blushing with embarrassment. Ridiculous. "Tomorrow. Here now, come on, let's get out our books and you can help me figure out the 'Ferula' spell."

Harry snorted, not really amused at all. "I haven't quite figured out how to do the 'Ferula' spell yet. Where's Hermione when you need her, right?"

"Right," Ginny agreed with a sigh, and they both spent a minute slumped down in their respective seats. "So," she began a bit later, looking up at Harry with renewed interest. "How's life?"

"Pretty good, actually," Harry told her, brightening considerably. "No one's tried to kill me this year-"

"That's a plus," Ginny agreed with a grin.

"Isn't it!" Harry exclaimed, ignoring the glare he received from Madam Pince. "'Course, we've still got a few months to go...and for all we know, this breaking out into song could slowly be killing us all...but overall, everything been going quite well."

"And with Malfoy?" Ginny questioned lightly. Harry was oblivious of course, because talking to Ginny was always easy and he didn't think she was prone to gossip.

He was wrong, but...

"I don't know how it's going with Draco," Harry answered promptly, running his fingers absently along the corner of whatever page he'd been on when he had passed out. "He's been acting very odd lately."

Ginny let out an amused snort. "Malfoy's always acted odd, Harry, surely that's not surprising."

"But he's been acting _really_ odd," Harry exclaimed, imploring her to understand. "Sometimes he'll avoid me and then other times everything will be perfectly normal and I don't quite understand what's going on with him."

Ginny was frowning slightly. "How have you been treating him, Harry?" She asked, looking a bit skeptical.

Harry shrugged non-chalantly. "Like I always treat him, I suppose."

"Okay," Ginny sighed, "well before the start of this year, you treated him like shit. Which I understand, because the bastard deserved it. But I meant how you're _treating_ him." Hadn't Harry already answered that? "Are the two of you talking enough? Being honest with each other?" Harry went to answer but Ginny plowed on, not seeming to notice him at all. "Are you spending enough time together? Too much time perhaps? Have the two of you had any arguements lately? Because personally, I think that arguments are a good thing - look at mum and dad. They argue all the bloody time, and they're the happiest couple I've ever -"

"Harry!" Harry breathed an internal sigh of relief at Hermione's excited shout of his name. Madam Pince, of course, looked like she was going to have a coronary, but no one paid attention to her.

Hermione was standing in the library doorway with a glowering Ron following grumpily behind her. "Harry," she repeated, hurrying over to them and looking much more excited than Harry really thought was necessary, no matter what the reason. "We've been looking everywhere for you, the funniest thing just happened out near the black lake-"

"Where did you look?" Harry asked, confused. He'd been in that very spot in the library for _hours_.

"Oh you know, the usual places," Hermione said, waving off his question easily. "The point is-"

"What are the usual places?" Harry continued, his confusion mounting. He had usual places?

"Quidditch pitch, common room, hospital wing..." Ron ticked off glumly, slumping in the seat next to his sister.

"The hospital wing?" Harry exclaimed, feeling a bit affronted. "Why would that be my usual place?"

"Because you're always in the hospital wing, Harry," Ginny reminded him with a roll of her eyes.

"B-But," Harry began with confused exasperation, "I am not!"

"That's not the point," Hermione snapped, waving him off again. "The funniest thing happened out near the black lake-"

"It wasn't that funny," Ron grumbled, glaring at the table and kicking his foot out at the leg on Harry's chair.

"It was very funny," Hermione assured Harry and Ginny with bright eyes. "What happened was-" she paused, as though expecting to get interrupted. Harry and Ginny stared at her, while Ron continued to glare silently at the table. "What happened was," Hermione continued, taking a deep breath, "Ron and I were sitting near the lake, right, and then all of the sudden, Justin Finch-Fletchley's coming over with some brownies for Ron."

"Oh goodness," Ginny muttered under her breath, causing Hermione to grin widely.

"Oh no, it gets better," she assured the ginger mischeviously. "So, I obviously told Justin he could bugger off and that Ron wasn't going to buy his pot brownies, when he started singing."

"Not singing!" Harry exclaimed in mock astonishment. Hermione didn't seem to catch the sarcasm.

"Yes!" She squealed, biting her lip with excitement. "And it wasn't just any song either, it was...oh how did it go?" She glanced at Ron, who was too busy ignoring her to help out. "It was so catchy, like... '_hey, hey, you, you, I don't like your girlfriend_-"

"_No way, no way, I think you need a new one_," Ginny mumbled when Hermione seemed to get lost, and in return Hermione squealed excitedly.

"Yes," she shouted, continuing to ignore Madam Pince's glares. "I didn't see you outside when it happened, Ginny?"

"Oh, I wasn't," Ginny exclaimed, waving her hand airily. "I was just passing by and I heard someone singing it. That was Justin?"

"Oh yes," Hermione said, smirking. "Anyways, Justin started singing about how much he hated me and was totally in love with Ron-"

"What?" Harry shouted, astonished.

"It was amazing!" Hermione finished with relish, and Ron kicked Harry's chair again.

"Now I know why he's always giving me those free brownies," he mumbled, pouting a bit. "I thought it was just because of my awesome people skills."  
>Ginny let out a disagreeing snort. "Yeah, right. 'People skill's'...bloody stoner."<p>

"I'm not!" Ron shouted, his ears going red.

* * *

><p><em>Nev,<em>

_ Hey, it's me. _

_ I was just wondering if you'd gotten anything on that curse yet? If you need any help, I'd be happy to. Though I don't really see what the big deal is. Singing students isn't exactly fatal, is it? What's the guy gonna get? A slap on the wrist? Community service? Haha, anyways, just thought I'd see how it's going._

_ Also, have Ron and Ginny been singing anything funny lately? I want details._

_ -GW_

* * *

><p><em>George<em>

_ Didn't expect a letter from you mate, let me tell you._

_ And no, Blaise and I are fucking stuck. Not that we've really been looking it up much since he suddenly became an arsehole. And that's the thing, we don't know if it's fatal or not. I mean, Madam Pomphrey's been checking a few students every few weeks to see if there are any odd symptoms turning up, but none so far that we know of. Then again, the curse could just be a late bloomer, and suddenly some first year's gonna drop dead from too much dancing or something._

_ As for what the guy (or girl) is gonna get - I've asked McGonnagle, and she said something about Azkaban. I guess it's not very legal to curse a bunch of underage teenagers. Who knew, right?_

_ The other day Ron was singing about a 'heart boner' whatever the hell that is, and about a month into term, Ginny got everyone to sing some punk-rock song and beat the shit out of eachother. That was pretty interesting. Other than that though, not that I'm aware of. People don't really talk about it anymore - it's like we've all become used to suddenly bursting into song or something. The teachers won't even pause class if it happens, just go on like nothing's wrong. Kind of funny, really._

_ Anyways yeah, if you want to help your more than welcome to. You could ask around, see if there's anyone around that would go nuts and cast a musical curse on the school._

_ Talk to you later mate,_

_ -NL_

* * *

><p>"Hey, Neville," Blaise greeted brightly as they passed in the hall. Neville was currently pretending as though Blaise didn't exist, instead going up to the owlery to send a letter to George.<p>

"Leave me alone," Neville said when Blaise looked like he was going to say something else. Blaise's mouth snapped shut and Neville stalked away from him, not pausing even a little when he heard Blaise let out a forlorn sigh.

* * *

><p>Draco walked into the Eighth year dormitory to see, to his amazement, Longbottom of all people going through his trunk. Honestly, he didn't know what was more surprising: the fact that Longbottom had had the intelligence to figure out all of Draco's wards, or that he'd had the balls to break into Draco's trunk at all.<p>

So, obviously, it took a few seconds for Draco to really wrap his head around the fact that Neville Longbottom of all people was trying to steal from him.

"What are you doing?" Draco shouted, striding confidently (or maybe skipping, it was hard to tell sometimes) over to Longbottom and shoving him away from Draco's precious belongings.

"Looking for firewhiskey," Longbottom told Draco, seeming to be completely unashamed. Draco sputtered for a few seconds, completely overwhelmed that the single most mentally deficient boy in his year was not only breaking and entering, but looking for contraband to consume as well.

What had the world come to?

"Why the hell didn't you just fucking _ask_!" Draco finally cried, slamming the top of his trunk down and sitting heavily down on top of it to keep Longbottom from rifling through his things again.

"Couldn't find you," Longbottom answered, looking not even a little sorry that he'd broken at least five school rules and could probably get expelled. Or punched in the nuts, Draco wasn't sure which one he favored more right then. "Figured you'd be happy to share."  
>'Share', Draco repeated in his head, suddenly feeling emotionally drained. Of course he had to share, he wasn't a Malfoy.<p>

"You should've asked first," Draco muttered, hopping off the trunk and digging to the bottom for a bottle of Odgen's. "What do you want it for anyway?" He continued, popping off the cork and taking a long swig of it before handing it over to Longbottom.

Longbottom shrugged nonchalantly. "I wanted alcohol, you have alcohol - what would you have done if you were me?"  
>"Killed myself," Draco answered promptly. Longbottom rolled his eyes.<p>

"You and Harry don't really drink anymore, do you?" Longbottom asked after taking a long swig.

After a moment, Draco shook his head. "Our lives are considerably less shitty right now, you see."

"Well that's good," Longbottom said, though it was obvious he wasn't really paying attention. "You know what you should do?"

"Add more 'no-Longbottom' wards to my trunk?" Draco said hopefully, and Longbottom shook his head.

"Have a party. An Eighth year party. I bet people wouldn't hate you as much if you got them drunk."

"You've obviously never been drunk," Draco muttered under his breath, thinking about the plethora of hangovers he'd had that year. "I've only got a couple bottles left," he added louder when Longbottom didn't immediately reply.

"Collaborate with Harry," Longbottom advised sagely. "He can get you more."

Could he really?

"You know," Draco admitted after a moment, "I might just do that. D'you know where he is?"

Longbottom shrugged. "Try the hospital wing."

That made sense.

* * *

><p>"Potter!" Draco shouted, entering the hospital wing with a bang.<p>

Harry let out a shout of surprise and then there was another bang and he was hopping on one foot, holding the other in his hands and whimpering in pain.

"What do you want?" He asked, a grimace on his face as he took off his trainer and examined his big toe carefully. "And how did you know I was here?"

"Eh," Draco gave him an easy shrug. "It's one of your usual places."

Harry gaped at him for a second, shocked that Draco Malfoy of all people thought that, before finally having the decency to argue. "No it's-"

"Not the point," Draco finished, or perhaps he'd been talking the whole time and Harry had interrupted him, no one really knew. "Where can I get alcohol this late at night?"

"Hogshead," Harry answered promptly, his argument already forgotten. "Why? Surely we haven't run out?"

"No, no," Draco said, waving Harry's worries away with a flick of his hand, "I'm throwing a party for the eighth years. Where's Madam Pomphrey?" Harry didn't know what that had to do with anything, and was becoming more than a little confused with Draco's odd words. He couldn't quite string them together to create a sentence that made sense, unfortunately.

"Dunno," Harry replied, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Did you just say you were throwing a party? You? And where have you been all day? I looked everywhere for you."

"I was up in the girl's dormitory with Pansy," Draco told him, giving another shrug. "That's not the point though - let's go to the Hogshead, I want to get firewhiskey."

Harry was finally beginning to understand why Draco suddenly seemed so odd. It was like he'd been-

"Have you been Imperiused?"

Draco gave him an odd look, as if the thought alone was ludicrous. "Of course not. And if I had been, I wouldn't be likely to tell _you_ now would I?"

That, Harry thought, was a fairly good point.

"Okay, then," Harry began slowly, limping slowly to the strange blonde boy he'd found himself emotionally attached to. "Let's...go...I suppose."

"Let's," Draco agreed, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him out of the hospital wing. Harry decided that weirder things had happened. Probably.

* * *

><p>"Are you serious?" Hermione asked, looking at Neville like he'd grown another head.<p>

"No, Sirius is dead," Ron answered, causing Hermione to glower at him.

"A joke in bad taste, Ronald."

"Right," Ron replied, suddenly somber.

Hermione decided to ignore him. "Drinking?" She exclaimed, rounding on Neville much as she had before Ron had rudely interrupted. "Everyone? Have you gone mad, Neville?"

"It was Malfoy's idea," Neville told her before taking a long swig from what Hermione assumed was a bottle of Odgen's finest. "And anyways, it would promote house unity. You want house unity, don't you Hermione?"

"Well yes," Hermione agreed, not seeing at all how one had to do with the other, "but-"

"And these poor people need to relax," Neville continued, cutting her off easily. "Don't you think our friends and dorm mates need to relax?"

Hermione huffed. "Yes, Neville, but-"

"What, with it being so soon after the war and all," Neville exclaimed, causing a few people to glance up at him. He took another drink from the mysteriously unlabeled bottle. "Don't you think these poor people should be allowed to forget their woes, Hermione? Just for a night? Don't you?"

"Yes," Hermione snapped, glaring at him now, "but-"

"Then I don't see what the problem is," Neville finished, giving Hermione the most innocently hopeful look she'd ever seen in her entire life. Which was saying something, since she was friends with Harry Potter. "I mean really, Hermione, let's take a poll." He raised his voice a bit. "Who wants to get pissed and have an orgy tonight?" He looked around the room expectantly. "Anyone?"

Ron raised his hand, and the rest of the common room's occupants timidly followed suit.

"We want to get pissed and have an orgy!" Justin Finch-Fletchley shouted from the boys dormitory.

"There you are then, Hermione," Neville said calmly, looking at the brunette as though fully expecting her to just give in. Which she most certainly wouldn't.

"Fine," Hermione agreed flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I will agree to the drinking, but no orgy."

"Only if you drink with us," Neville amended, smiling blandly at her. Hermione couldn't help but secretly wonder when he'd gotten so good at this.

"If I must," she said slowly, using her immense brain power to come up with something suitable to finish with. "But everyone needs to be in bed by midnight."

"If you're still coherent by midnight," Neville replied, his smile turning into a full blown smirk, "then I'll get everyone to clear off. If not, then they stay. I suppose you'll just have to wait and find out."

Hermione couldn't stop the pout that came to her lips, nor did she try to. "I hate waiting," she admitted under her breath, and Neville shrugged.

"Sucks to be you then, doesn't it," he said before quite literally skipping off, drinking from the bottle every other step and humming under his breath.

Hermione, in all of her distress, rounded on Ron because he was closest. "I can't believe you just let that happen?"

Ron, who always seemed to be confused these days, only furrowed his eyebrows. "Let what happen? What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know!" Hermione snapped in exasperation. "Something. You're my boyfriend after all, the least you could do is keep me from agreeing to something so stupid."

"I didn't know you were stupid!" Ron exclaimed, seeming to get more and more confused every second.

"Did you just call me stupid?" Hermione asked, indignantly shocked.

"Only after you called yourself stupid!" Ron shouted, his voice raising a few octaves in his distress at being yelled at for something that was obviously not his fault. "I don't know what you want me to say right now! Please tell me so that I can stop yelling!"

"Stop talking altogether," Hermione screeched furiously.

Ron opened his mouth to screech back, then slowly shut it, his face lighting with something close to recognition. "So...all I have to do is...not say anything?"

"You'd be doing a great service to us all if you did," Nott said as he passed by them and towards the stairs to the boys dormitory. "Permanently, if at all possible."

"Right," Ron agreed before seeming to realize what he'd just agreed to. "Hey, that wasn't very nice!"

* * *

><p>"I'm bored," Neville told his red Solo cup drunkenly. Harry and Malfoy had returned shortly after Hermione and Ron's argument, and many drinks had been supplied, along with an odd assortment mid-sized red cups that Harry had explained to him.<p>

"Write your name on it and fill your cup with alcohol," Harry had said, shoving the offending object in Neville's hand like it was the messiah come back to Earth and taking the bottle from Neville's other hand like the secret devil he was. "Now be a good lad and share. There we are mate." Which had been the only explanation Neville had received.

Harry had disappeared a bit ago along with Malfoy, probably up to the dormitories where they usually got drunk at. Neville didn't know what they did up there, and didn't particularly care to find out. For all he knew, the answer would blind him.

And really, Neville was clumsy enough as it was with perfect eyesight. He didn't really need the added stress.

So, he sat in a corner of the common room, staring at his red plastic cup blearily to avoid looking at the only other occupant who seemed to be just as bored and lonely as him.

Neville knew with absolute certainty that all he had to do was pick up his pretty red cup and walk across the room to where Blaise sat and say something - anything - and neither of them would be bored or lonely anymore. And while a large part of Neville wanted to do just that, he just didn't _want_ to. He didn't want to give into the fit bastard and pretend that what Blaise had said all those days ago hadn't been entirely uncalled for and mean-spirited. And while Neville was quite sure that at this point he was past over-reacting and had turned into a girl, he no longer cared.

If Neville wanted to be annoyed with his boyfriend (or at least he thought they might still be together, he wasn't completely sure) then dammit he was going to be annoyed with his probably-still-boyfriend. Or whatever.

"Neville!" Someone shouted over the roars of a group of Slytherins and Ravenclaws playing Galleons, "come join the party, mate!" After much focusing and re-focusing, Neville realized that the someone who had spoken just so happened to be Ron, who looked like he was having a wild time. Hermione, Neville noticed with smug detachment, seemed to be an awfully giggly drunk, who kept slapping Ron's chest as if he was saying the funniest things even when he wasn't talking at all.

It was times like these that Neville really missed Colin Creevey, because who else would ever believe him that Hermione was happy when drinking without physical, photographic evidence.

"Er, no," Neville answered Ron after a minute of silent contemplation. As much as he'd enjoyed the party in the beginning, he was quite liking being bored and wasted with his red cup, and didn't really need Ron's company. "I believe I'll pass."

Ron seemed to have forgotten that the two of them had been having a conversation at all, seeing as he was currently busy snogging his girlfriend. Apparently Sue Li didn't had a longer attention span, because she walked unsteadily over and grabbed Neville by the hand, pulling him to his feet.

"C'mon, Nev, don't be such a pansy."

"Excuse me!" Pansy Parkinson exclaimed from nearby. Sue Li stuck her tongue out in response, dragging Neville over to the table where another game of Galleons had started.

"Neville!" Everyone at the table cheered, thumping him hard on the back and exclaiming what fun he should be having.

* * *

><p>"I'm bored," Neville muttered to himself after watching Millicent Bulstrode swallow his galleon with the rest of the firewhiskey in the cup she'd been drinking from. He was fairly sure that she didn't even realize she'd done it, which was just sad, really.<p>

"I can keep you entertained," Hannah Abbot slurred, trailing a finger down his arm. Neville quickly stepped away, bumping into Parkinson, who shot him a flirtatious smirk.

"Er, no," Neville responded, though he wasn't sure which girl he was talking to. "No, thank you."

"Are you sure?" Hannah asked, giving him a pout. Neville nodded quickly, unable to keep from glancing covertly at Blaise, who was watching the scene from his corner of the room and looking quite annoyed.

"Very sure," Neville said firmly. "So sure, in fact, that you couldn't pay me enough to, er, keep me 'entertained'."

"Probably just as well," Pansy said with a sigh, slinging an arm over Hannah's shoulders. "You're gay, we're women, that never works out well."

"Too right," Neville agreed, edging his way towards Ron and Hermione, who would probably protect him if he could get them to stop making out long enough.

"Though," Pansy added, tapping her chin with one manicured fingernail, "what better way to exact your revenge on Blaise Zabini than by having your way with not only one girl, but _two_." How was it that even drunk Pansy could be a manipulative bitch?

"No, thank you," Neville said for a second time, practically running backwards to get away from the girls now. "Why don't you two try another homosexual? I hear Justin Finch-Fletchley's gay, and since he's practically a girl anyway, he might be interested."

Hannah put on her thinking face. "That's a good point," she said finally, grabbing Pansy by the hand and pulling her away.

"Thank you for the suggestion, Longbottom," Pansy called over her shoulder, and Neville couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

"Not a problem," Neville muttered under his breath, turning around only to come face to face with none other than a sick-looking Hermione Granger. She put a hand to her mouth, eyes wide, and Neville couldn't help but think that with all things considered, this really just wasn't his night. First Hannah and Pansy tried to come onto him, and now Hermione was going to sick up on his favorite robes.

Just lovely.

"_Now red solo cup is the best receptacle_," escaped Hermione's mouth, and Neville found himself feeling relieved yet again. There was no puking, only singing. He could deal with that.

"_For barbecue's, tailgates, fairs, and festivals_

_ And you sir _-"

Hermione poked Neville hard in the chest.

"-_Do not have a pair of testicles _

_ If you prefer drinking from a glass"_

Considering how Hermione slurred her words, Neville decided that she was much more pissed than he'd originally anticipated. She spun around to face Ron, who looked more than a little amused by the outburst even as she raised her hands and spilled firewhiskey on his shirt.

"_Hey red solo cup is cheap and disposable,_

_ In fourteen years they are decomposable,_

_ And unlike my home they are not foreclosable_

_ Freddie Mac can kiss my arse_-"

"Woo!" Ron cheered before Hermione got to what appeared to be the chorus.

"_Red solo cup_," she sang happily, dancing a bit and sloshing more firewhiskey onto the floor.

"_I fill you up,_

_ Let's have a party_-"

"Let's have party!" Everyone in the common room shouted, laughing and cheering and having a merry old time, Neville included.

"_Let's have a party_!"

"Let's have a party!"

"_I love you red solo cup,_

_ I lift you up,_

_ Proceed to party_!"

"Proceed to party!" Neville exclaimed with the rest.

"_Proceed to party_!"

"Woo!"

"_Now I really love how you're easy to stack_," Hermione told her cup with a grin.

"_But I really hate how you're easy to crack_

_ Cause when beer runs down, in front of my back,_

_ Well that, my friends, is quite..._" She seemed to be searching for a particular word.

"Yucky?" Neville supplied, attempting to keep the rhyme. Hermione giggled.

"_But I have to admit that the boys get smitten,_

_ Admiring how sharply my first name is written_-"

Hermione showed Ron her cup, and he pretended to swoon into Ernie MacMillian's arms.

"_On you with a Sharpie when I get to hittin'_

_ On them, to help me get_-"

"Lucky!" Parvati Patil shouted, and Hermione nodded seriously.

"Lucky," she agreed, pausing for a moment before seeming to come to herself and shrugging.

"_Red solo cup, I fill you up,_

_ Let's have a party_!"

"Let's have a party!" They cheered.

"_Let's have a party_!"

"Let's have a party!"

"_I love you red solo cup, I lift you up,_

_ Proceed to party_!"

"Proceed to party!"

"_Proceed to party_!"

"Woo!"

"_Now I've seen you in blue, and I've seen you in yellow_," Hermione told her red solo cup, holding it firmly in her grasp.

"_But only you red will do for this fellow,_

_ 'Cause you are the Abbot to my Costello,_

_ And you are the fruit to my loom_."

Neville sniggered.

"_Red solo cup, you're more than just plastic,_

_ More than amazing, you're more than fantastic,_

_ And believe me that I'm not the least bit sarcastic,_

_ When I look at you and say_:"

Hermione gave the red solo cup a serious expression, and Neville couldn't help but do the same. It was like a moment of silence for the cups in the room, the only noise coming from Hermione's mouth.

"_Red solo cup_," she told it, carressing it like it was her child, "_you are not just a cup. You're my...my friend_."

"_Yeah_," Ron echoed, staring at his cup with the same sort of admiration.

"_Lifelong_," Neville agreed, doing much the same. It had, after all, been with him and his troubles all night. What better friend was there, really?

"_Thank you_," Hermione murmured sweetly, "_for being my friend_."

Silence reigned over the room.

"Amen!" Megan Jones shouted, and life seemed to come back to the party.

"_Oooh, Red solo cup_," Half the room began singing, Neville included of course.

"_We'll fill you up,_

_ Let's have a party!_

_ Let's have a party!_

_ We love you red solo cup, we'll fill you up_

_ Proceed to party! Proceed to party!_

_ Woo!_"

For the first time since he'd outwitted both Malfoy and Hermione earlier in the evening, Neville found himself having a grand time. Just as the song had told him to, Neville proceeded to party.

* * *

><p>"I like it when you laugh," Harry told Draco. It was out of the blue - Harry was sober enough to realize this, seeing as neither of them had drank very much despite the merriment going on downstairs.<p>

They'd been cuddled together on Draco's bed for the past hour, staying in comfortable silence while people shouted and cheered, and Hermione sang a song about her red Solo cup. Harry had decided to break this silence with the most random fact imaginable, though in all honesty he'd been thinking along the same lines for at least fifteen minutes.

Because really, Harry quite liked it when Draco laughed. He'd let go of that pinched, superior look on his face and belt out a sound that no one would ever expect to come from such a skinny boy. Harry liked it when Draco laughed - really laughed - not chuckled. Though admittedly, hearing Draco giggle was quite entertaining all by itself. He liked how surprised Draco looked when he laughed, as though he hadn't expected to but instead was pleasantly intrigued by the sound escaping his lips. As it didn't happen often, Harry had come to cherish Draco's laughs like it was the last time he'd ever hear it.

"I like it when you laugh, too," Draco replied quietly, pinching Harry's side playfully and grinning when he let out a surprised giggle in turn. "Especially when you start laughing so hard that you snort. The look on your face is priceless every time."

Harry couldn't help but blush a bit at that, because apparently Draco enjoyed something that Harry damn near despised. It was a bit unexpected.

The silence reigned on as Harry thought more about what he liked in Draco.

"And," Harry made sure to elongate the word to keep Draco in suspense. Who seemed quite taken, considering that Harry had once again just uttered a sound after being quiet for so long. "And I like it when I wake up before you."

"So that you get dibs on the loo?" Draco asked, a bit confused.

Harry was actually thinking it was because when he woke up before Draco, he got to see Draco asleep and hearing him mutter nonsensical words and toss around a bit until Harry couldn't help himself and woke the blonde up. However, he was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Sure, okay."

Draco quirked a curious eyebrow. "What's the real reason."

"That is the real reason," Harry lied, smiling despite himself. Draco immediately smiled back.

"Liar."

"A bit," Harry readily agreed. Draco rolled his eyes. Harry decided that that wasn't one of Draco's most attractive expressions, and had no problems telling him this.

Immediately, Draco perked up and gave Harry a horrified look. "Really? Why didn't you tell me before?" He demanded, wiggling out of Harry's grasp and sitting up.

"Didn't think about it before," Harry admitted with a small shrug. "And really, it's only when you roll your eyes like that. The rest of the time you look quite fit."

Wait, was he allowed to say that? He'd have to look in the rule-book later.

Despite Harry's silent questions, Draco perked up even more, a small, coy smile replacing his grimace. "You think I'm fit?"

"Well," Harry muttered, more than a little embarrassed and having to clear his throat continuously because for some reason that's what embarrassed people did. "Y-Yeah, I, erm, s-suppose."

Draco's smile widened. "You're quite fit yourself."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. "R-Really?"

"Looks like it."

"All, um, alright then. Guess it's...settled." Why on Earth was Harry still talking? Things were becoming awkward quite quickly and he felt he should really just shut up. "We both find the other...a-attractive. Good. Right. Oka-" Draco draped a hand over Harry's mouth, causing the rest of the word to be muffled.

"You're suffocating me, Draco."

"You're welcome," Draco replied graciously, moving his hand only the slightest amount so that Harry could breathe again.

"Thank you." There was a moment of contemplative silence. "So...are you ever planning on removing your hand from my mouth?"

"I don't think so, no."

"Alright then."

* * *

><p>AN: Originally there was more to this chapter. Well, okay, there was more Blaise in this chapter. Confrontations, finally figuring out who put the curse on Hogwarts was, that sort of thing. But then I cut it out *sad face* and it's gone. Speaking of that second thing, if anyone has any idea who did, in fact, put the curse on Hogwarts, I would love it if you told me your thoughts in your reviews. In fact, I'll just be happy if you review.

But I mean, I know who it is, and I'm curious to see if anyone has figured it out. If so, please share =). But yeah, talk to ya'll honkies later, I have an eighteenth chapter to write.


	18. Heartbeat Song

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: Super late with this post - there were a couple of family deaths that I had to mourn for, so sorry about that. On the brightside, I'm posting a chapter right now, so yay me =)

Song: Heartbeat Song - The Futureheads - Album: The Chaos

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18 - Heartbeat Song<strong>

"Fancy a shag?"

Harry looked at Ron, his eyes wide with horror from the implications. "No!" He shouted, backing away from his best friend quickly, hands raised in defense. "No, I'd really rather not!"

Ron was apparently undeterred, as he was already stepping closer to Harry. "Of course you do," he said, winking lecherously. "You know you want me, Harry."

"I _really_ don't," Harry promised, his back hitting an invisible wall. Oh god, he was trapped! "Go shag Hermione," he said, getting his body as close to the wall as he possibly could. "She's into that sort of thing!"

Suddenly Ron's face melted away, and was replaced by Severus Snape. Which was incredibly odd, since he was dead.

"I don't want Granger," Snape said, his black eyes slowly turning red. "I want you, Potter!"

"You're old!" Harry shouted, fear seizing him. "That's icky!"

"On your knees or a thousand points from Gryffindor!" Snape commanded, and to Harry's horror he began sliding down onto the floor.

"Go fuck a Hufflepuff," Harry pleaded, very nearly in tears. "They're good for that sort of thing!"

"You want me, Potter," Snape told Harry, beginning to unbutton his robes. "You know you do."

"I don't," Harry argued, wishing he could move - fight back or _something_. "I want David Tennant! He's the Doctor! He won't make me do anything immoral!" Harry paused. "Or Matt Smith," he conceded finally. "Not as handsome, but we can make it work."

Snape didn't answer, instead melding into Voldemort.

'_Oh really_', Harry thought viscously, hoping God could hear him, '_you had to bring in Voldemort_? _He doesn't even _look_ like the Doctor._'

"Fuck you!" Harry snapped at Voldemort angrily.

"Oh no, Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed in his cruel, evil voice. There was something akin to a smile on his nose-less face as he bent down to Harry's level, "fuck _you_." Quite suddenly, the room was on fire, and Harry was screaming as Voldemort pulled back his robes.

* * *

><p>"Harry?" Draco asked as Harry jumped from his arms so that he could sit up in the bed, breathing heavily and looking terrified. "Harry, are you alright?"<p>

"Horrible," Harry whimpered, turning so that he could bury his face into Draco's chest. "Ron asked if I fancied a shag and I said 'no' but he didn't listen and then he turned into Snape, who also fancied a shag with me, but I said that I would only shag him if he was David Tennant - or possibly Matt Smith - but then he didn't turn into David Tennant, he turned into Voldemort, and then Voldemort got naked and I woke up!"

Draco was staring at him in horror. "Who the hell is David Tennant?" He finally asked, the cold roar of jealousy rearing it's ugly head.

"Oh," Harry said, staring up at Draco with wide, innocent, tear-filled eyes, "he's-"

"Hang on!" Ron exclaimed, and suddenly the lights were on in the dormitory and they heard the curtains of Ron's bed being pulled back. "Harry, did you just say that you had a dream about us shagging?"

Harry pulled back his curtains as well, climbing over Draco so that he could poke his head out. Ron was doing the same. "No," he told Ron seriously, "I didn't want to shag you, you wanted to shag me. And then you turned into Snape."

Ron scoffed. "Well that's completely unrealistic."

"It was a nightmare," Harry reminded him. "And Voldemort got naked."

They shared a shudder of disgust.

"Who's David Tennant?" Draco repeated, his voice going up a few octaves.

"He's the Doctor," Harry and Ron said in unison.

"Doctor," Theo echoed sleepily.

"Doctor who?" Draco demanded, causing Harry and Ron to do an air high-five, since they weren't close enough to do a real one.

"Exactly," Harry agreed happily.

Draco let out a low groan and fell back onto his pillow. "It's too early for the confusion," he mumbled, closing his eyes.

"But I'm still scared," Harry pointed out, waving goodnight to Ron before closing the curtains back up and crawling back over Draco.

Draco sighed, pushing Harry onto his back before grabbing his hand comfortingly. "Ron's straight, Snape's dead, and Voldemort's not frolicking about in the nude. Good night."

Harry smiled, his worries disappearing with Draco's words. "Good night."

They snuggled into each other, and Harry was almost asleep when Ron broke the silence with a very good question. "Hey, where's Neville and Zabini?"

* * *

><p><em>Neville,<em>

_ It's me again._

_ You'll probably have no idea what I'm talking about, but I wanted to say that I'm really sorry about everything, and I'll find a way to put it right._

_ -George Weasley_

* * *

><p>Neville was walking down the Charms corridor, simply minding his own business on his way back from the owlery, when it happened. One second he was passing by an abandoned classroom, and the next he was being pulled into the abandoned classroom, warm, familiar fingers gripping his wrist and spinning him around.<p>

"We've really got to talk, Nev," Blaise huffed, dropping Neville's wrist and moving with lightening speed to block the door of which Neville had planned to escape.

Despite the absurdity and slight fear of the situation, Neville unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Blaise. It was the first time since their classmates had returned from Christmas break that Neville had gotten a good look at him, something other than quick glances from the corner of his eye, or glares from across crowded rooms. He looked lovely, if a little tired and malnourished.

"Have you been eating?" It was probably the stupidest thing Neville had said in a while, but now that Neville was actually getting to _look_ at Blaise, he couldn't help but notice that the answer seemed like a 'no'.

"Not hungry," Blaise answered, looking slightly confused. "The first words you say to me in a month, and that's it? Inquiring about my eating habits?"

"It's not been a month," Neville told him. He knew, because he'd been counting days.

"Feels like it's been a year," Blaise snapped, looking frustrated. "If you're worrying about my health, does that mean you've forgiven me?"

"Hardly," Neville replied, crossing his arms over his chest. It was, admittedly, harder to remember that he was mad at Blaise when Blaise was so close. "Could you kindly remove your arse from the exit? I need to get to bed." Which, Neville realized, was ridiculous, because Blaise was always keeping him from the wonders of sleep. He briefly wondered - while raking his eyes over Blaise's too-skinny form - whether or not it was an accident. For all Neville knew, Blaise despised sleep, and was constantly keeping Neville from it on purpose.

The bastard.

"You're not going to bed," was Blaise's response as he, too, folded his arms across his chest in a decidedly stubborn manner. "This is what happens when you avoid me for a month."

"It's not been a month!" Neville insisted, almost stomping his foot like a little brat. Luckily he stopped himself in time. "And what exactly were you hoping to talk about? The fact that you're a bastard and I'm not ready to forgive you yet?"

"Actually, that's exactly what I wanted to talk about," Blaise answered, scratching the back of his neck and looking properly abashed.

"Well then," Neville said, clearing his throat importantly, "you're a bastard, and I'm not ready to forgive you yet. Now move before I pass out right here."

"That's not a talk, that's a statement," Blaise said firmly. "We're going to talk."

"I don't want to talk," Neville argued stubbornly.

"Fine, but you're not leaving this room until we talk. You, Neville Longbottom, have officially been kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?" Neville repeated flatly. "Are you _mad_?"

"I'm not going to lie, I'm a bit frustrated," Blaise admitted, shrugging bashfully.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Neville snapped, causing Blaise to grimace. "Now move before I make you."

It wasn't lost on Neville how, before his Seventh year at Hogwarts, he wouldn't have even dreamed about threatening Blaise Zabini. Then again, before his Seventh year at Hogwarts, Neville wouldn't have dreamed about doing half the things he'd done with Blaise Zabini.

"Did you just threaten me?" Blaise asked in a low, deceptively dangerous voice. Neville almost wanted to laugh at the thought of Blaise - the boy who looked at physical violence with obvious disdain, since it was so beneath him - acting like just the thought of being threatened was enough to earn Neville a swift kick in the bollocks.

"Yes," Neville answered honestly, "I believe I just did."

And the next thing Neville knew, he was being shoved up against the door and his head was bouncing off of the wood with something close to pain. He could feel warm, moist hair puffing harshly against his cheek, and realized a bit belatedly that Blaise had, in fact, _manhandled_ him.

Neville had been _manhandled_.

"Do you have any bloody idea what you've put me through, Neville?" Neville attempted to focus on Blaise's words, but it was a bit difficult when all he could do was think about the last time he'd been stuck between Blaise and a wall. Needless to say, the situation had been quite a bit different then.

"I can't eat, I can't bloody _sleep_," Blaise was saying furiously. "All I think about is what a berk I've been and how I can possibly make it up to you so that you'll forgive me."

Neville's eyes zeroed in on Blaise's lips, his mouth moving just as steady and precise as always. His body tingled, feeling Blaise's body heat through their robes, his slim fingers clenched on Neville's shoulders. Heat began pooling in his groin despite the ache in the back of Neville's head.

"And then, when I finally get you to spend more than five seconds in a room with me, you have to be so unbearably rude-" Blaise's words were cut off by Neville pressing their lips insistently together. It hadn't exactly been Neville's plan, but it was hard to keep a firm grip on self-control when Blaise was so close and he was so sexually frustrated.

It didn't take long for Blaise - at least - to come to his senses and pull back. "Not fair," he mumbled against Neville's lips.

"You're the Slytherin," Neville replied, trying very hard to resume breathing, "you should've expected it." Nevermind that Neville hadn't expected it either.

Blaise nodded in agreement, their noses brushing against each other in the process. "Are you ever going to forgive me?" He asked finally, letting out a deep sigh that hit Neville's chin. "Or am I fighting for a lost cause?"

"Yes," Neville answered, and he watched close up as Blaise's eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes to which one?"

"The first one, you twat."

Blaise let loose a wide grin that seemed to split his face in half. "Do you forgive me, then?"

"No," Neville said, and the grin fell.

"No?" Blaise repeated, taking a step back.

"No," Neville said again, crossing his arms back over his chest and giving Blaise a cool look. He really needed a wank.

Blaise sputtered a bit before words seemed to come back to him. "Well what can I do to speed up the process?"

Neville shrugged, backing himself towards the door. The loo was the first stop as soon as he escaped. "I'll get back to you on that," he promised, opening the door that Blaise had conveniently forgotten to guard and stepping back into the corridor. "And for Merlin's sake, Blaise, get some food before I have to force feed you."

It wasn't a very good threat, but it was the best he could do.

Onward to wanking.

* * *

><p><em> George,<em>

_ You're right dude, I have no idea what the hell you're on about. You're forgiven, though, I suppose._

_ What are we talking about?_

_ -NL_

* * *

><p>"<em>Psst<em>!"

Harry spun around wildly, still a little odd after his nightmare from the night before.

"_Psst_! Potter!"

Pansy Parkinson poked her head out of an abandoned classroom in the Charms corridor, waving Harry towards her.

"Parkinson?" Harry asked, a bit confused.

She nodded vigorously, her waves growing harder. "Honestly, Potter, hurry up before someone sees us."

"You don't want to shag me, right?" Harry asked, just to make sure. Pansy rolled her eyes, which was more than enough for him. As soon as he was close enough, she grabbed him by the front of his robes and pulled him bodily into the classroom, shutting the door quickly behind them.

"_That_," Harry began, dusting himself off and giving her a worthy glare, "was unnecessary."

"You need to get with Draco," Pansy said, easily ignoring him.

"Sorry?" Harry asked, confused by the sudden topic.

"Draco," Pansy repeated, keeping her voice low and looking around through shifty eyes as if expecting the very walls to be spying on them. "Shag, snog, get married - whatever, I don't care - simply get it done."  
>"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said stiffly, feeling his cheeks begin to heat up at the thought of shagging Draco. Well, the thought that someone else knew he wanted to shag Draco. He'd always been horrible at keeping secrets.<p>

"Yes you do," Pansy hissed. "I've got ten galleons against the Greengrass sisters that the two of you will be together before Valentine's Day, so you need to get a move on, otherwise I'll lose."

"Is that why you're whispering?" Harry couldn't help but ask, feeling a bit stupid. Of course the walls couldn't actually hear them. They were just walls.

"Head in the game, Potter," Pansy snapped, slapping him over the head to prove her point. "Tell Draco that you're in love with him and want to have lots of sex and babies so that I can win my bloody bet!"

Harry stuttered, and sputtered, and made a fool of himself.

"Words, Potter, use words!" Pansy exclaimed quietly, and Harry nodded his agreement. Words. Right.

"Why can't you talk to Draco about this?" He managed to get out. "The two of you are friends, surely you losing galleons will matter to him." Or at least it would matter to him more than it mattered to Harry.

Pansy only rolled her eyes again. "Because Draco will never do it," she said as though it were obvious. "He's a Slytherin, Potter, has been for the past seven years, and Slytherin's are notorious for being absolute cowards when it comes to romance."

"I didn't know that," Harry admitted, thinking that she might be slightly insane.

"It's in the bloody handbook!" Pansy hissed, smacking him over the head again.

"You guys have a handbook?" Harry asked interestedly even as he attempted to dodge her flying hand.

"Just do it!" Pansy finally snapped, her voice raising at an alarming speed. "I don't care how the hell you do it, just get it done so that I can get my galleons from the Greengrass', and Granger can get a blowjob from her boyfriend!"

Harry openly grimaced. "I really didn't want to know that," he told her seriously. "Honestly, why would you do that to me? Trying to sell me out to Voldemort wasn't as mean as what you just did there."

Pansy winced before seeming to spring back into her natural glare and shoving him hard in the chest. "Do it," she growled menacingly before spinning around - robes flying with her - and stalking out of the empty classroom.

"You're a horrible motivational speaker!" Harry called after her. Pansy didn't respond, possibly because she didn't hear him, but most likely because she knew he was right. He sighed, slumping his shoulders and pouting at the ground. "I can't believe Ron and Hermione are betting for oral sex."

* * *

><p>"You're welcome," Pansy snapped as she pushed past Draco after entering the common room.<p>

"Thanks?" He half asked, but she was already making her way up the girl's dormitory. "What the hell?" He murmured to himself, shaking his head while looking after her in confusion. Some things just didn't make sense.

"Where are you off too?" Blaise asked as Draco continued his trek towards the portrait hole. Draco sighed.

"Library," he admitted. "I need to find out who this 'David Tennant' is, and what he's a 'doctor' of."

Blaise looked at him for a good long minute before letting out a shrug of acceptance. "'K," he said, looping his arm through Draco's and leading him towards the portrait hole. "I've got research of my own."

"Why don't we get any homework anymore?" Draco asked curiously as the portrait closed behind him. Blaise only shrugged again.

* * *

><p>"Aha!" Draco exclaimed in a whisper an hour later. He and Blaise were sitting at a back table in the library, busy reading up on their completely separate subjects.<p>

Blaise looked up at him curiously. "'Aha' what?"

"David Tennant is the Doctor, who's actually a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey!" Draco explained, feeling quite proud of himself. And Harry was right, the Doctor really was quite attractive.

Blaise's eyebrows furrowed. "But I thought Gallifrey was destroyed during the war between the Time Lords and the Daleks," he pointed out.

"Yes!" Draco agreed, grinning broadly in his new knowledge. "But apparently one of them escaped. Along with a whole shitload of Daleks. And now the muggles have caught wind of it and created this television show about him and his exploits across time and space. I assume they figured it out after all of those things that kept happening at Christmas."

For a moment there was only silence as the two former Slytherin's thought about Draco's research. Finally, Blaise nodded. "Well, that settles it," he said with a small smile. "I need to invest in a muggle television." Draco nodded his agreement.

"Draco!" Draco's head shot up in surprise at Harry's shout of his name. In the library. "Draco, are you in here?"

"Mr. Potter," Madam Pince snapped, sounding quite furious, "there are students studying!"

"Oh, bugger them," Harry said, waving her off and making his way into the library. "Draco?" He called out again.

"I'm back here," Draco called back, raising his hand above his head so that Harry would see him.

"Silence!" Madam Pince hissed, only to be ignored.

"Marco!" Harry said loudly.

"Polo!" Draco replied, sharing a grin with Blaise.

"Maaaarcoooo," Harry repeated, his voice growing closer.

"Polo, you dumb bastard," Draco sniggered, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

Suddenly, Harry poked his head around a bookshelf, grinning when their eyes met. "Found you," he said happily, skipping over to their table. "Hello, Blaise," he added politely. Blaise waved, his eyebrows raised high above his head.

"Hello, Potter."

"Is there a reason for all of this, Harry?" Draco asked, waving his hands around wildly. To everyone's surprise, Harry's cheeks went a bit pink.

"Actually there is," he said, edging away to lean cooly against a bookshelf. "Because I had a very odd conversation a little over an hour ago, and I want Ron and Hermione's love life to blossom before one of them kicks me in the bludgers."

From beside Draco, Blaise choked.

"I have no idea what any of that means," Draco told Harry seriously. The brunette simply shrugged.

"Justin," he called over his shoulder, and half a minute later, Justin Finch-Fletchley appeared with an acoustic guitar strapped over his shoulder.

"Hufflepuff?" Draco asked interestedly.

Harry shrugged again. "Well I was looking for you, and as everyone knows, Hufflepuff's are particularly good finders."

"What the hell is a 'Hufflepuff'," they heard Madam Pince mutter under her breath as she watched them suspiciously.

Justin raised his hand nervously.

"Anyways," Harry said loudly, forcing Draco's attention back to him. "The point is, is that I've written you a song."

"A song?" Draco repeated curiously.

"A song," Harry agreed with a mischievous smile. He turned to Justin. "If you will begin, good sir."

Justin nodded, and began an uncomplicated riff on his guitar.

"_When we meet, I listen to your heartbeat,_"

Harry began, dancing in time with the upbeat song and giving Draco a hopeful smile.

"_I can hear the rhythm and the tone_

_ Every time I listen to my heart_

_ It's like a cartwheel in my head, but my legs are made of lead_."

"If I start laughing," Blaise murmured to Draco in an undertone, "please don't hate me." Draco nodded his agreement.

"_You're heartbeat song_,"

Harry sang, with Justin doing back-up vocals quite well.

"_Is good, but it's not the one_

_ We're singing out of tune_

_ But I still want to sing with you_!"

Blaise let out a choked snort of laughter.

Justin began dancing and playing around the bookshelves.

"_When we speak, I find it hard to think straight_

_ Especially when there's no one else around_

_ When we touch, it's impossible to concentrate_

_ Bright lights everywhere like I'm floating in the air_."

"Oh, wait until I tell everyone," Blaise chuckled as Harry grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him to his feet.

Harry and Justin began their harmony once more.

"_Your heartbeat song_

_ It's good, but it's not the one_

_ We're singing out of tune_

_ But I still want to sing with you_!"

There was a pause in Justin's playing before it began again, louder than before.

"_If you care, we can share sometime_,"

Harry told Draco, twirling him about in what he hoped was a romantic gesture.

"_If we spare ourselves tonight_!"

Harry's voice cracked a bit, causing Blaise to laugh harder.

"_When we meet, I listen to your heartbeat_

_ I can hear the rhythm and the tone_

_ Every time I listen to my heart_

_ It's like a cartwheel in my head, but my legs are made of lead_."

"Harry," Draco began, attempting to pull out of Harry's grasp because he was getting quite dizzy. "Can you-"

"_When we speak, I find it hard to think straight _

_ Especially when there's no one else around_

_ When we touch, it's impossible to concentrate_

_ Bright lights everywhere like I'm floating in the air._

"_Your heartbeat song_

_ It's good, but it's not the one_

_ We're singing out of tune_

_ But I still want to sing with you_!"

Harry repeated this a couple of times, still twirling Draco around and having a merry old time while Justin and Blaise shared a grin.

And suddenly it was over.

"So?" Harry asked Draco hopefully. Draco was clutching Harry's shoulder, staring down at the carpeted floor with wide eyes.

"Give me a second," he muttered, "the rooms spinning."

"Sorry," Harry muttered apologetically. Draco only nodded, though it looked a bit tilted.

After a bit, Draco finally looked up at him. "So," he began, worry lines on his forehead, "just for clarity's sake...what exactly does that mean?"

Harry pointedly rolled his eyes before grabbing Draco by the back of the neck and pulling him into passionate kiss that screamed of pent up sexual frustration.

"Get a room!" Blaise jeered, laughing maniacally. His words caused the two boys to pull apart from each other, though it wasn't far.

"Oh," Draco said, smiling a bit stupidly. "Oh, yes, I suppose that makes sense."

"Yeah," Harry agreed while silently shaking with laughter. "So...wanna be my boyfriend?"  
>Draco didn't answer, still feeling quite dazed. "I think I like kissing you when we're sober."<p>

"You realize I'm taking that as a yes, don't you," Harry said seriously. Draco nodded. "Good."

* * *

><p>AN: There's only one more chapter and an epilogue left. I'm really excited for the epilogue, because I've known what it was going to be since, like, chapter five.

Anyways, review and be awesome to one another. Lesbo out.


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